


Abyss

by tendervittles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Sexual Assault, Awkward Flirting, Biting, Blackmail, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Choking, Come Eating, Daddy Issues, Drinking, Drunk Driving, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hand Jobs, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Incest, Kissing, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, M/M, Manipulation, Oral Sex, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Assault, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendervittles/pseuds/tendervittles
Summary: Theon Greyjoy gets a job as Roose Bolton's assistant while going to college.  But it's Ramsay Bolton who really broadens Theon's horizons.A classic modern-AU Thramsay tale.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This can sort of be read as a prequel to my other fic, Mark as Spam. I enjoyed writing that one so much I wanted to expand on it. (Also two new fics in two days? Damn, self.)
> 
> Tags will be updated when I post a new chapter.
> 
> Enjoy~

Theon grabbed his bookbag and slung it over his shoulder.  If he didn’t leave now he was going to be late and that was the last thing he needed.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Asha called, glancing up at him.  She was sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee and this morning’s newspaper in front of her.

“Got a job.” Theon explained in a rush, “Today’s my first day—gotta go!”  He slipped out the door before his big sister could question him further.  He could talk to her about it when he got home later, though in truth, Theon wasn’t sure how he was feeling about this new position.

He slid into the front seat of his car, an old junker that functioned in fits and starts, reluctantly bestowed upon him by his father two years ago when Balon Greyjoy had bought himself a _new_ car.  Fortunately, today was a good day and the engine turned over and caught without any finagling on Theon’s part.  He backed out of the driveway and pulled out onto the quiet residential street he had lived on all his life.

The tall oak trees that lined the road dappled the inside of the car in patches of sunlight and shadow.  Theon paused at a stop sign and tugged at his collar.  Trying to look professional was suffocating, but this was an office job and he knew without asking that his new boss wouldn’t stand for it if Theon showed up dressed in his usual rumpled t-shirt and jeans.

His new boss.  Roose Bolton.  Well-known around their small, close-knit town, but not especially friendly with anyone; a strange man, everyone agreed, without being able to identify _why_ , exactly.

He had some business relationship with the Lannisters, who lived down on Casterly Road, and a son who had passed away some years ago, but that had been the extent of Theon’s knowledge about the man, until he had walked into Roose’s office a week ago for an interview and walked out as the new receptionist-slash-assistant for the one-man accounting firm.

Theon still couldn’t quite believe his luck.  The interview had gone terribly, in his opinion; he had fumbled all over himself, dropped resumes all over the floor, and stammered his way nervously through Roose’s calm questioning.  He could have sworn the man hadn’t blinked the entire time they had been together in his office and his steely, even gaze was nothing less than oppressive.

But somehow he had nailed it and just in time too; upon Theon’s high school graduation four months ago, Balon had announced that henceforth he would be expected to pay his own way while attending community college across town.  Suddenly, he owed his father for room and board, plus whatever it cost for Theon to remain on the family phone plan, not to mention footing the bill for gas and car maintenance (which there was increasingly more of).

Oddly terrifying as he may be, Roose paid well and Theon was hopeful that he may even have a bit extra left at the end of the month, after his father had had his due.

Easing his car into a parking space, Theon gave one more hopeless tug at his collar.  His shirt was already sticking to his back.  He hated dressing up and, even more, hated wearing long sleeves where the temperature was still hovering around eighty.  But he shrugged it off, locked up the car, and walked inside his new workplace.

 _At least it’s air conditioned_ , was Theon’s first thought, followed closely by, _where the fuck is Roose?_   The door to his office was closed.  Theon considered knocking, then thought better of it and took a seat behind the front desk—his desk now, he supposed. 

Maybe he’d decorate.

The thought of bringing knick-knacks and photos to this office made him laugh out loud.  Theon couldn’t imagine Roose _ever_ going for it, allowing it even on just his secretary’s desk, and besides, what the fuck sort of pictures would Theon decorate with anyone?  One of his _loving_ family?  He spun around, testing out the swiveling chair.

He had no idea what to do.  Roose had yet to make an appearance and he hadn’t assigned Theon any tasks beforehand.  Theon scanned the desk top.  There wasn’t even a note.

The computer was on though… Theon shook the mouse to light up the screen.  Hovered the cursor over the icon to open the browser.  There were some soccer scores from this weekend he hadn’t checked yet…

What could it hurt?  It wasn’t goofing off if he didn’t have any else to do.

Theon spent the morning catching up on sports news, even stories he didn’t really care about.  He took some pictures of himself clowning around and fired them off to his best friend, Robb Stark.  Then he and Robb texted a bit, but there wasn’t much to report since he had just been sitting around all morning.

As his conversation with Robb fizzled out, Theon became so engrossed in trying to find some new way to occupy himself that he almost didn’t notice the phone until he had let it ring for far too long.

He snatched up the receiver so quickly he almost dropped it.  “Hello—I mean, Roose Bolton’s office, Theon Greyjoy speaking—I mean, how can I help you?”

“This is Tyrion Lannister, calling on behalf of Tywin Lannister, to confirm a meeting with Roose for four o’clock today.”

“What?  Ahh fu—hold on one moment.”  Theon looked around in a panic before his eye lit on a datebook to his right.  He snatched it up and rifled through the pages until he found today’s date.  “Yes, yes, I see it here.  Four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Wonderful.  My father will be just _thrilled_ to hear it.”  Tyrion clicked off the line without a goodbye.

Well, that could have gone worse, Theon supposed.  At least the chances of his complete unprofessionalism on the phone would be unlikely to make it back to Roose; Tyrion wasn’t the sort.  They weren’t friends, but Theon knew Tywin Lannister’s youngest son casually, the way everybody knew everybody casually around here.  They shared a taste for attractive women and good beer.

Theon let out the breath he’d been holding.  He’d survived his first phone call.  He could do this.  But no more fucking around.

For the next twenty minutes, Theon started straight ahead, willing himself not to become distracted.  He tapped his feet against the legs of the chair.  Maybe he could sneak a peek at his phone, just to see if Robb had texted him back.  But then he’d be tempted to answer…

A door closing behind him jolted Theon back to attention.  Roose had finally decided to make an appearance.  He was studying a file and Theon wasn’t even sure he’d been noticed until Roose addressed him.

“You made it.  Good.”

“Y-yes sir.” Theon replied, unsure whether he was even meant to answer at all.

Roose continued.  “I’ll only need you until three.  You’ll lock your door on the way out; there should be a spare key in the desk.  You take classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, correct?”

“Yes sir.” Theon repeated.

“Fine.  I’ll see you here from nine to three, Monday, Wednesday and Friday.  You may take your lunch sometime between twelve and two, for an hour.  There is a refrigerator and coffee machine in the kitchen.  Familiarize yourself with the files in the cabinet.  If you have need of me, the phone has an intercom system; I’ll use the same.  There will be a check for you on Friday.”

“Yes sir.”  Theon felt stupid using the same phrase three times in a row, but Roose didn’t seem to be looking for anything other than acknowledgement of his words.  “Thank you sir.” He added this time, just to be saying something different.

Roose ignored that.  He turned to go.

“Oh—one more thing.  My son, Ramsay, should be stopping by after his own classes today.”

“O-okay.”  Theon finally faltered, but if he noticed at all, Roose didn’t seem to care.  He disappeared back the way he had come. 

Alone again, Theon located the key Roose had spoken of and slipped it onto his keyring.  “Might as well get to those files then.” He murmured under his breath.

There wasn’t much to go through, in truth.  The cabinet was small, only three drawers high.  It was full of account records, most of them old, from what Theon could tell.  The most recent file seemed to be from eight years ago.  He doubted Roose would be needing any of these very frequently.

Theon chose a file at random and sat down to peruse it; Roose did say to “familiarize himself” and he didn’t seem like the type of man who would consider Theon simply opening a few drawers and reading a few labels to be “familiarizing.”

It wasn’t the most compelling reading, but it was something to do, and it was even work-related.  When he finished with the first, Theon chose a second file and began working his way through that.  It was still early and he wasn’t especially hungry yet; he could take his lunch at one.

He kept at it until a door slammed, from the front of the office this time.  Theon glanced up, mentally preparing his greeting in hopes he’d sound better than he had on the phone.

But the words died in his throat.  The person who had just walked in didn’t look like anyone who belonged in an accounting office, or any office, for that matter.  For one, he looked to be able Theon’s age, with lank, shoulder-length black hair and gray jeans that were ripped at the knees.  A single red earring that dangled from one ear; it caught the light and flashed.

“Uh… hi.” Theon said lamely.  He remembered belatedly that Roose had mentioned his son stopping by.

“You’re Ramsay?”

“Yeah.  You must be my father’s fresh meat—I mean, secretary.” 

Ramsay had a grin like a shark.

“Assistant.” Theon corrected.  He wasn’t quite sure why the distinction suddenly mattered to him as much as it did.

“Right.”  Ramsay shrugged, stripping off his backpack and leather jacket.  He flopped heavily down onto one of the waiting room chairs and put his feet up on the coffee table.  Internally, Theon cringed.  There was no way that would fly with Roose, but Theon wasn’t in a position to start bossing his employer’s son around.

“I didn’t expect you to be so pretty, but knowing my father, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  That’s probably why he hired you, you know.  What’s your name, anyway?”

“Theon Greyjoy.” He blurted.  He wanted to respond to the insult, throw it back in his face the way he would if it were anyone else, but something about Ramsay made him too uneasy.  Robb and Asha both loved to point out how Theon’s mouth often got ahead of his brain, but he wasn’t _completely_ obliviously to his own self-preservation.

“Theon.” Ramsay repeated the name like it was a delicacy he was tasting for the first time.

They didn’t speak after that.  Ramsay pulled a textbook and notebook out of his bag.  He seemed to be trying to do homework, but kept getting distracted, fiddling with his phone and staring off into space, much the way Theon had earlier.

For his part, Theon was having trouble going back to his files as well.  He kept glancing up to study Ramsay.

He didn’t look much like his father; Roose was a tall man, but slender, whereas Ramsay has some of his father’s height, but is broader through the chest, and fleshier.  Most of the resemblance is in their faces.  Both father and son have eyes like ice, a pale blue Theon has never seen before.  But Ramsay’s lips are plump where his father’s are usually pursed practically into nonexistence.

Theon knows nothing about how Ramsay compares to his deceased brother, Domeric, but he knows they had different mothers.  Most of the unsavory rumors surrounding Roose go back to Ramsay’s origins; the word _rape_ whispered between acquaintances in the grocery store aisle or while under hair dryer chair at the beauty parlor.  

“I think I’m going to take my lunch break.” Theon blurted.  Ramsay had finally caught him staring and saying something seemed like the only way to ease the tension.

“Good for you.”  Sarcasm, great.

“Do you think your dad would care if I left to grab something to eat?  I didn’t—I didn’t think to bring anything with me.”

“Fuck if I know.  Who cares?  Just go.  I’ll come along.  If my father gives you shit, I’ll say I told you it was fine.”

Theon glanced behind him, towards the door to Roose’s office, worried he may have somehow overheard.  But hunger overcomes his concern.

“All right, let’s go.”  He scribbled a note for Roose and left it on his desk, just in case.

“Did my father tell you to dress like that?” Ramsay asked, once they’re outside. 

Theon fingered the top button of his shirt.  “No.  He just doesn’t seem like the type to let his employees dress down.”

Ramsay snorted.  “You’ve got that right.”

They walked on silence.  It’s a bit more companionable that before.

“This isn’t what I normally look like.” Theon explained needlessly as they got in line at the deli counter.

“I’ll bet.  You don’t seem like the type.”  Theon doesn’t bother to ask what that’s supposed to mean.

They collected their sandwiches and headed back out.  Ramsay paused to light up a cigarette. 

“Could I get one of those?” Theon asked.  Someone is always stealing his packs and throwing them away.  Asha and Robb because they’re trying to improve his health in whatever small way possible, Balon because “it makes the house smell like smoke” even when Theon smoked outside but really it’s because he just can’t stand to let Theon have one small thing that gives him pleasure.

“No more.  We can share this one.”  He held it out to Theon.

The pack Ramsay pulled from his pocket had looked practically full, but Theon didn’t mention it.  He nodded his ascent and took a drag.

Back at the office, Theon ate at his desk.  There was a table in the small kitchen off the hallway, but Ramsay took his former seat again and started eating over the coffee table and for some reason, Theon is reluctant to leave his company even for the few minutes it’d take to wolf down his food.  Somehow, he figured he could trust Ramsay’s earlier offer of protection from Roose to extend to this as well.

Roose doesn’t make an appearance though and Theon cleared away the remains of his lunch, bringing the desk back to its former pristine state.

Belching, Ramsay picked up his books again.  “Where do you go to school?  I just started up at the community college.” Theon asked, before he got too engrossed.

“I’m there too.” Ramsay replied.

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”  He doesn’t know why he said it, but it felt important.

“Guess so.”  Ramsay smiled brilliantly at him.  “You like that?”  His eyebrows flicked up twice in quick succession.  Suggestively.

Theon didn’t know how to respond to _that_.  He jumped when Ramsay slammed his textbook shut.  “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“All right.”  He doesn’t feel… disappointed isn’t the right word for it.

Ramsay stood and stretched, the muscles of his back rippling under his shirt.  He dumped his things back into his bag, collected his jacket.

“When do you get out of here?”

“Not until three.” Theon answered.

“And you’re here…”

“Monday, Wednesday, Friday.”

“Right.”  Ramsay nodded and prowled closer until only the desk is separating the two of them.  “Right.”

Theon nodded, just to be doing something, because Ramsay isn’t looking for a response.

He looked about to say something else, then changed his mind.  He reached up and undid the highest button on Theon’s dress shirt, the one nestled right up against his throat.

“Don’t let my father control you too much.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay does some fun internet stalking!

Ramsay let himself into his father's house and went straight upstairs. He had a lot to think about.

He'd initially been pissed off when his father told him he'd finally hired someone to help him out with things around the office. He'd tried Ramsay in the position, the summer before he finished high school, and Ramsay had sort of assumed eventually his father'd get around to asking him to come back. But a series of temps had come and gone, Ramsay had squeaked by and graduated, and the expected offer had never come.

Then his father had announced that he had hired Balon Greyjoy's last son to help him out.

Ramsay had been furious. He'd raged at his father all that night, insulting him, baiting him, stopping just short of begging, to no avail.

That was before he'd gotten a look at his father's new _assistant_.

Roose Bolton didn't make demands. He made statements, which were either heeded or ignored, and then acted accordingly.  So Ramsay had been told to stop by this afternoon and get some homework done, he figured complying was easier than facing whatever consequences there would be later.  

The fact that Roose hadn't even deigned to see him while he was there meant nothing. He'd know whether or not he'd been obeyed.

Ramsay hadn't even remembered that it was Theon's first day until he walked in and watched the boy's eyes widen in surprise, like a deer in headlights.

He looked excruciatingly out of place. Roose's office was small but impeccably kept. Carpeted, with cushy chairs and a polished table in the waiting room and a large reception desk-- _Theon's_ desk now--it gave every appearance of a high-powered firm, right down to the fancy floral arrangements and water cooler.

Theon, on the other hand, seemed to barely have it together. His outfit made him look like a little boy playing dress-up in daddy's closet. His hair curled messily behind his ears and, although he couldn't see them, Ramsay would've bet anything that his shoes were scuffed.

He'd heard of "fake it 'till you make it" but Theon didn't even seem to have accomplished the first part.  But _fuck_ , he was pretty.

Ramsay was enraptured.

He'd made Theon share a cigarette with him, and imagined he could taste the boy's lips and tongue when he inhaled.

Remembering that, Ramsay couldn't get his pants off fast enough.

His cock was already hard, leaking precum. Ramsay stroked himself, focusing on Theon's face, the way it looked when he'd undid the button pressed against his perfect, white throat.

With a groan, he spilled into his hand. Ramsay didn't think he'd come so fast in his life; he hadn't even made to the bed. His pants and underwear were in a tangle at his feet and he'd come jerking himself pressed against the door, his free hand on the frame for support.

Without bothering to re-dress himself, Ramsay slid into his desk chair and woke up his computer.  He had some research to do.  He rarely ever used his Facebook account, but there were times when having one came in handy—like right now.  He pecked “Theon Greyjoy” into the search bar.

The first result was the one he wanted.  Ramsay clicked to open Theon’s page.  In his profile picture, Theon reclined, in only a pair of swim trunks and sunglasses, on the deck of a boat, grinning at the camera.  His skin had flushed in the sun and, absurdly, Ramsay felt himself growing angry.  He wanted Theon pale, like porcelain.  The tan made him look… cheap, somehow.

Ramsay clicked to the next photo.  Theon with his arm slung around another boy, tagged “Robb Stark,” each with a red plastic cup in hand.  Next.  Theon at his graduation, a tall girl with a beak of a nose standing beside him with a look of pride.  Boring.  Can’t even see the shape of his body under that stupid gown.

Next.

Lots of pictures with this Robb Stark, whoever he was.

Not that Ramsay hadn’t even heard the name before; Roose had mentioned him on a few occasions as having accompanied his father, Ned, to some of their business meetings.  So Ramsay _did_ , technically, know Robb Stark.  He’d just never given a shit about him, until now.  In as much as Robb effected his Theon. 

_His Theon._

Now _there_ was a tantalizing thought.

That led him to wondering if Theon was a virgin.  Ramsay clicked out of Theon’s photos and back to his wall.  Lots of posts from girls, but his relationship status was listed as “single.”  But lots of flirting.

Probably not entirely a virgin then. 

But would he be a virgin for _Ramsay_? 

He could’ve let Robb fuck him.  It didn’t _seem_ like he had, but he could’ve.  Ramsay had to _know_ though.  But it was unlikely that Theon would just tell him.  They technically didn’t even know each other.

There was only one way to change that.  Ramsay clicked the “add friend” button.

Then he paced.  Around and around the small apartment his father had fashioned for him in the attic.  He went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the almost-empty fridge before checking his computer _again_. 

He checked the time.  All right.  Maybe Theon just wasn’t checking his phone while he was still at work.  Fine.  Ramsay could wait.

He flopped onto his bed.  Drank down his booze.

At least he could have dinner with his father when he got home.  Ramsay did so most days, even though he had a fully-functional kitchen.  It was easier than shopping and cooking himself.  And now there was an added benefit—the chance to find out more about Theon.

Ramsay checked his phone for Facebook notifications.  Nothing.  But he found Theon’s page again and scrolled until he found one of his favorite photos—Theon having just spooned a scoop of ice cream into his mouth, his lips wrapped around the spoon.  There were lots of photos of him enjoying sweets…

By the time Ramsay had finished masturbating a second time and dozed for a while, sleepily day-dreaming of Theon, Roose’s car was back in the driveway.

He threw his pants back on and wandered down to the first floor.

“Dad?” He asked, hovering outside the kitchen.  Whatever Roose was cooking, it smelled good.  Caught up in his fantasies, Ramsay hadn’t quite realized how hungry he was.

“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Ramsay.”  Somehow his father never needed to raise his voice to be heard, even over the sound of the sink running and something being chopped on the cutting board.

Ramsay wandered into the living room to wait, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

_Fina-fucking-lly_!

_You’re now friends with Theon Greyjoy_ , read the notification.

Ramsay could have crowed, but he restrained himself, waiting until he heard his father setting plates down in the dining room.

They sat down for dinner, father and son, at opposite ends of the heavy table, it’s dark wood polished to such a shine that Ramsay could see himself reflected in it.  As usual, he had to speak first.

“So how’d it go?  With Th—with the new blood.”

“He appears adequate.” Roose replied.

Which told Ramsay exactly _nothing_.

“Yeah but like… what’s he like?  What’d you have him doing all day?  I stopped by, like you wanted.  Did he say anything about me?”  Ramsay realized he wasn’t eating and picked up his fork and knife while Roose chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bloody steak. 

“Nothing in particular.” Said Roose, only addressing the last of Ramsay’s questions.

Ramsay dug his knife into his own steak, hacking at it moodily.  He grabbed the salt and shook it aggressively over his green beans.                                                                   

Roose sighed.  “All right.  I can see this is clearly important to you for some unfathomable reason.  Truth be told, I didn’t have much to do with the boy.  His function is to handle distractions so I can focus on more important matters.”

“ _Dad_ …”

“Ramsay.  Enough.”  His father held up a hand to silence him.  As if his tone wasn’t sufficient.

They finished their meal in silence, Ramsay shoveling food into his mouth as quickly as he could.  If Roose didn’t want to tell him anything, fine.  There were other ways. 

He pushed his cleaned plate away and stood up without asking to be excused.  The legs of his chair scrapped against perfectly maintained hard wood flooring.  He hoped he fucking scratched the varnish.

Roose had no response to any of that, except to start collecting dishes to be washed and put away.  

Ramsay turned to go, but his father’s voice stopped him.

“Ramsay—a word of advice.  Leave the boy be.  I understand your frustration with my decision to hire him, but you must restrain yourself.”

He couldn’t help it—he laughed, a barking sound that sounded all the louder for being contrasted with his father’s soft, even tone.

“ _Fuck_ , have you ever got the wrong idea.  Not everything is about _you, dad._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me about this filth (or whatever) on my tumblr, <http://tender-vittles.tumblr.com/>~!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and Theon get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so long.  
> If you start feeling weirdly bad for Ramsay, fear not, he's still an irredeemable trashcan. You'll see where I'm going with this~~  
> Btw you should read @crookedneighbour's new fics because we got married four months ago and I love them dearly and they're very talented <3

Friday afternoon.  Theon stepped out into the bright sunshine and shielded his eyes from the glare.  He’d survived his first week of work.  There’d been an envelope waiting for him on his desk when he got in and his eyes had widened at the amount written on the check.  Maybe he was going to be okay.

All in all, Theon _should_ have been feeling pretty good.

But he wasn’t.

There was something—or more specifically _someone_ —he couldn’t get out of his head.

Ramsay.  His boss’s strange, sullen, skulking son. 

He’d gone home after his first day, ready to tell Asha everything like he’d intended, but when he arrived he found himself avoiding his sister’s questions and spending the rest of the afternoon and evening sequestered in his room.  He couldn’t stop thinking about Ramsay’s fucking cigarette.  Ramsay’s fingers at his throat.  Ramsay asking if he liked that they’d be seeing a lot of each other.

Then his phone had buzzed with that fucking friend request and Theon had agonized for hours over whether to accept or leave Ramsay hanging in Facebook limbo indefinitely.

Finally, feeling immensely stupid, he’d pressed “accept.”

And that should have been it.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Lying sleepless in bed that night, he’d tried to jerk off, just to distract his overworked brain, but that hadn’t worked either.  No matter which of the many girls he’d fucked—no matter who he pictured—his thoughts kept returning to Ramsay.

He came with his mind still distracted by the way Ramsay had grinned, with the light flashing in his single earring.

Which wasn’t _quite_ the same as _coming while thinking about Ramsay_. 

Theon had rounded the corner, lost in thought, when he noticed a hulking figure leaning against the hood of his car.

 _Fuck_.

Theon ducked back out of sight.  Ramsay was clearly waiting… for him.  He briefly considered going back the way he’d come and walking home instead.  He could pick up his car tomorrow.

But Balon would kill him if he got it stolen, even if it was a piece of crap, and besides, Ramsay would _know_ if Theon tried to avoid him.  He wasn’t sure how he was so certain of that fact, but nonetheless he knew it was true.

He took a deep breath and walked back towards the car.

“Uh—hey.” Theon said when he was about ten feet away.

The sun was sinking in the October sky.  Ramsay’s face was hidden in shadow.

“Hey yourself.”

“I—What are you doing here?”

There wasn’t even a breeze.  Just the two of them, it seemed, staring at each other.

Ramsay shrugged, like it was perfectly natural that he’d be waiting for Theon after work.  “Thought I’d come by and congratulate you.  On surviving your first week with my father and all.”

“Right.” Said Theon.  “Well… thanks.  It’s not s’bad as I thought it’d be.”

Why couldn’t he look Ramsay in the eye?

Ramsay snorted.  “Want to hit a bar to celebrate?  I know a good spot.  I could take you.”

Theon weighed his options.  It’d been a long week, with school and a new job, he had money to burn, and a few drinks _did_ sound nice.  With Robb up at state school several hours away, he hadn’t been going out as much as he used to.  On this other hand, this wouldn’t just be going out.  This would be going out with _Ramsay_.

But a few drinks together might shake loose whatever weird tension currently existed between them.  That’d be worth it, just so that they could be around each other without things being so… weird.

“All right.” Theon said, trying not to sound hesitant.

“Great.”  Ramsay grinned that damn grin again.  “My car’s over this way.”

He had a _nice_ car.

“Shit, I’m jealous.” Theon blurted, sliding into the leather seat. 

“Yeah, cost a penny too.  Of course, I didn’t pay for it.  I convinced my dad I needed a way to get to and from school.  And he doesn’t do half-measures.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Ramsay laughed.

That short conversation had taken them all the way from the parking lot out onto the main road.  As they continued on in silence, Theon was aware that Ramsay had one hand on the wheel and the other resting behind his seat.  Not _touching_ him.  Just… close enough to, if he wanted.

Theon tried not to think about it.

“Shit.” He murmured.

“ _What_?  I mean—what?”

“You know I’m not twenty-one… right?”

“Oh.”  Ramsay chuckled.  “Don’t worry about that.  Where we’re going, no one’s gonna care.”

Ramsay drove them out to the highway, past the community college they both attended and out to the edge of town, just up to what most people considered to be a “bad neighborhood.”  He pulled into a gravel parking lot.  There didn’t seem to be any actually parking _spots_ , but Ramsay eased off to the side, almost onto the scraggly grass and turned off the engine. 

Theon studied the narrow building in front of them.  The establishment didn’t seem to have a name to speak of, just a glowing red sign above the door that said “Bar.”

“Let’s go.” Ramsay beckoned to him.

“This is Bar.  I guess Ben—Ben Bones, he’s the owner-slash-bartender, named it something else at some point, but nobody knows what it is—there’s never been any sign out front—so we just started calling it Bar.  I come here with a few of my boys pretty regularly.”

Inside, the room was dimly lit and hazy with smoke. Music was thumping out of a jukebox in the corner.  At barely four in the afternoon, there were few patrons. A woman giggled in one of the booths.

Ramsay led him to the bar.  "Hey Ben. Gimme... Beer and a shot for me, the usual, and whatever he wants." He jerked his head toward Theon.

"Could you do a... tequila sunrise?"

He received a curt nod in reply. The bartender busied himself making their drinks.  Theon went into his pocket for his wallet, but Ramsay put a hand on his arm.

"It's on me. Well, on my dad anyway." Plastic clattered onto the bar's scarred surface. Ben returned to open a tab on Ramsay's credit card.

"I knew you had a sweet tooth." Ramsay went on, nodding towards Theon's glass. Theon was starting to notice he did that a lot--abruptly switched topics and threw in vaguely insulting or strange remarks into a conversation so easily it was hard to know how to respond.

Robb used to tease Theon over his preference for sugary, "girly" drinks, until Theon showed him how he used it as a conversation starter, which usually led to an exchange of phone numbers.

But Ramsay didn't really seem to be teasing. Just making a point. How had he known, though?

"How'd you know that?" Theon asked, "That I like sweet things."

Ramsay tossed back his shot and Theon watched his throat move as he swallowed.  He seemed to be mulling something over.

"Facebook." He said finally, "I checked you out.  Gotta make sure dear old dad didn't hire an ax murderer or something. You got a lot of photos of you eating ice cream, sucking on candy.  Like a little kid."

 _Now_ Ramsay was making fun of him.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't allowed to have much of that stuff when I was a kid. My dad never treated us and my sister Asha was always into sports--she got to be a bit of a health nut. She's always trying to get me to eat better. It's a pain, but now that I'm mostly doing my own thing I eat what I want."

He shrugged.  He felt winded.  He felt like he'd just disclosed an awful lot of information, and he wasn't used to doing that, except sometimes with Robb.  Theon took a tentative sip of his drink.  It tasted good, refreshing, after his blathering on.  
  
Ramsay just nodded, his fingers steepled under his chin.  
  
"So how do you like working for my dad?"  
  
Theon shrugged, swallowed another sip.  "S'fine.  We don't talk much.  But he seems... fair."  
  
Ramsay barked a laugh.  "Fair... that's my dad all right."  
  
Theon didn't know what to make of that comment, so he continued.  "Pay's good.  Got my first check today.  This job really saved my ass... my dad's making me pay him rent now that I've graduated and my car always needs work, without this money I'd be up a creek right now."  
  
"Why don't you move out?" Ramsay asked. "If Roose tried that shit with me, I'd tell him to go fuck himself."  
  
"It's cheaper to pay Balon's rent than a landlord's.  I wanted to move out when I turned eighteen, Robb and I were gonna get a place together, but he ended up up north at state and I'm stuck here.  Balon wouldn't pay for anything but shitty community college because _it was good enough for my brothers and it should be good enough for me_."  
  
He was aware that he was talking too much, but he couldn't stop.  Something about Ramsay's icy gaze compelled him to keep going.  Made him feel like he shouldn't hold anything back, that even though his face remained expressionless, Ramsay wanted to hear it all and he'd be mad if Theon kept any secrets.  
  
Girls usually liked it when Theon did the same thing on dates--just let them go, tell him everything, the shit _they didn't even tell their best friend_.  It usually got him a least a blowjob later on and a disclaimer that she "didn't normally do this, but he really seemed to listen."  
  
So he guessed he should be enjoying this.  Like it should feel comfortable and enjoyable to disclose so much so fast.  
  
But it wasn't.  It made him feel weird.  Just barely in control, like when he drove his car too fast in bad weather.  He could careen off road and crash at any moment.  
  
Ben set a new glass in front of him.  Theon wasn't aware of finishing his first, but he grabbed for this one, taking a larger gulp than he intended.    
  
"You and Robb Stark are... close?" Ramsay asked while Theon sputtered, alcohol burning it's way up his nose.  
  
"Yeah." He gasped, straightening up, "He's like, more like a brother to me than my real brothers were."  
  
"Brothers." Ramsay mused.  "I had a brother.  A half-brother.  Domeric.  He died though."  
  
"My brothers too."  He hadn't fully realized that was something they shared.  Dead siblings.  It was a strange thing to have in common with somebody.  But what about this _wasn't_  strange?  
  
Ramsay got quiet after that.  Well, quieter.  Theon let him brood and nursed his drink.  He shouldn't have gone for the tequila; he was getting drunk.  He had some more anyway.  
  
"Let's get out of here." Ramsay declared suddenly, standing up.  Theon slid off his stool as well.  The room spun for a second; all that liquor had gone to his head.  Trying not to stumble, he followed Ramsay out.

In the car again, Ramsay said, “I’ll pick up some beers, we can go sit in the park.  And I’ll buy you some of that ice cream you like so much.”

“Why?”

Ramsay shot him a glare, his eyes gone dark.  He looked _pissed_.

 _Well no shit, that was fucking rude, you idiot_.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a dick.  I just meant, we only just met, you hardly know me.  Why are you being so nice to me?  Not that I don’t appreciate it, I’m just… curious.”

He was too.  Theon hadn’t been able to get Ramsay out of his head all week, and the whole evening—Ramsay buying him drinks, listening to him ramble on and on—had felt eerily like a date. 

So maybe the feeling was mutual.

Ramsay seemed appeased by Theon’s explanation.  “I figured you deserve it, after putting up with my dad all week.  Besides, it’s all his money anyway.  And—” Ramsay paused, pursed his lips in a way that was very reminiscent of Roose. “—I’m interested in you.”

Theon smirked.  He wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted “interested in you” to mean, but he was gratified that maybe his guess that Ramsay was like… courting him… in his own strange way wasn’t too far off the mark.

Ramsay parked at the convenience store down the street from the ice cream shop.  “Let’s go get you your treat.  Then I’m going to grab a six pack.”  He got out of the car without bothering to wait.

“So what does that mean, that you’re interested in me?” Theon asked, hurrying to catch up.

“It means I want to see you.” Ramsay replied, not looking at him.

“You’ll see me.  I work for your dad, remember?”

“I mean I want to _see you_.  On purpose.  Have you let Robb fuck you?”

The bell on the door chimed as they entered the shop.  “Get yourself a cone.” Ramsay ordered, his wallet already out.

“Ahh—chocolate cone, with sprinkles.  Please.” Theon told the kid behind the counter hurriedly.  Had Ramsay really just asked him that?

He trotted after Ramsay, out of the shop and back down the street toward Ramsay’s car, catching gobs of melting ice cream and colored bits of sugar on his tongue.  He didn’t get what had happened.  Who did Ramsay think he was?  Asking an incredibly personal question out of the blue and then acting like Theon wasn’t even there. 

Yeah, Ramsay was a bit prone to brooding, but Theon was starting to feel like he’d _actually_ done something wrong.

They walked out of the convenience store, Ramsay with beer in hand, and crossed the street to enter the park.  The sun had set; it was technically closed now, but they took a seat on a bench anyway.  Air hissed as Ramsay cracked open a bottle.

“Have you let Robb fuck you?” He asked again, passing it to Theon.  He opened a second for himself.

“No!” Theon exclaimed, “Dude, I told you… Robb and I are like brothers.”

Ramsay shrugged.  “Shit happens.”

“Not with us.” Theon said firmly, “That’d be too weird.”

“Someone else then? Another guy?”

Theon didn’t want to guess what Ramsay was getting at nor why he was obliging him and answering his questions.

“Girls.  Plenty of girls.  Kissed a couple guys, let one blow me once.  Just… never anything more.”

Ramsay didn’t have anything to say to that.  They sat in silence and drank their beers.  Theon finished his ice cream.  He was uncomfortably aware, now that he’d brought up, that he’d be willing to let Ramsay become one of the “guys he’d kissed.”

“Thanks.” He said, “For the night out.  And for what it’s worth, I want to see you too.  On purpose, like you said.”  His words were starting to soften at the edges.  If he didn’t cool it with the drinking, he’d be slurring before long.  And he still had to get his car home somehow.

Ramsay grinned.  “Good.  Come here.”  He beckoned Theon closer with an arm around his shoulder.  He leaned in.  Their mingled breath intensified the smell of beer.  He noticed again how full Ramsay’s lips were.  Then he noticed how soft.

 _Fuck_ , did it feel good to kiss him.

They kept it up for a while.  Theon, alcohol slowing his blood, was happy to let Ramsay set the pace.  He nibbled at Theon’s lips and dipped just tongue _just_ passed them before pulling back, somehow keeping them just at the border of full-on making out.

Ramsay finally broke the kiss.  Theon’s head was swimming from the combination of lust and booze.

“Fuck.” He mumbled.

“Fuck, good?” Ramsay asked.  He was smiling; he already knew.

Theon answered him anyway.  “Yeah.  Real good.”

Then “—Fuck!”  Jumping to his feet.

“ _What_?”

“I gotta go get my car.  My dad’ll kill me if anything happened to it.”

Ramsay stood up easily, clearly not understanding Theon’s urgency.  “I can drive you back.  We can pick up your car in the morning.  Or you can spend the night at my place.” 

That “we” was tempting, a night at Ramsay’s even more so, but…

“I can’t risk it.”  He blew out a breath.  “And wouldn’t it be weird?  W-with your dad?”  He felt awkward bringing up Roose while discussing a potential sexual liaison with his son.

If Ramsay was at all bothered by Theon’s refusal, he didn’t show it.  Just shrugged and said, “I’ll drive you back to your car then.”

Theon was absurdly grateful.

They drove the short back to the parking lot at Roose’s office. 

“I hope I’m okay to drive.” Theon mused, biting his lip in worry and gazing out the window, “Asha will kill me if she _ever_ finds out I drove drunk, never mind if anything actually _happens_.”

“What is she like your mom or something?” Ramsay asked.

“Pretty much.  My real mom was sick my whole life and Balon couldn’t parent his way out of a paper bag, so Asha practically raised me.  I think she wishes I was… well, better than I am, I guess.  More together.  I hate when I do stuff that’d make her feel disappointed but…”

“…You do it anyway?” Ramsay finished his thought.

“Yeah.”  Theon sighed.  “I’ll just go really slow, take my time, get home in one piece.  I couldn’t… That’s how _they_ died.  My brothers.  Rodrick—he was the oldest and he definitely had a drinking problem, just no one talked about it—was driving him and Maron home from a party one night.  He crashed, they were both killed.  It was sort of a relief to be honest.  Rodrick was always angry, in addition to the drinking, and Maron was just a dick.  But Asha was real torn up about it, and mom went right after that...”

He trailed off without finishing the thought.

Ramsay pulled up next to Theon’s car, threw the car in park, but neither of them moved.

“It wasn’t so dramatic.”  Theon didn’t understand.

“With Domeric.” Ramsay went on, “He just… got sick.  No one’s really sure what happened.  One day he was here, the next…” He shrugged, “He just wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Theon comforted lamely.

“Don’t be.” Ramsay sighed, stretching his arms back behind his head.  His shoulders popped.  “Lemme get your phone number.”

They left it there.  Theon drove home, slowly, and crept into the house with no one being wiser.  He collapsed into bed and was nearly asleep when his phone vibrated on his nightstand.  It was a text from Ramsay, only two words.

“Sleep well.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay reflects on his night out with Theon and has an argument with Roose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess I'm posting two chapters in like a day. But I'm about to start a marathon of three days of 10 hour shifts at work so I'm not sure when I'll finish the next chapter. This sort of concludes the end of the first part of this story. Not sure if I'll continue with the alternating POVs but we'll see. Things are going really start heating up after this though.

After dropping Theon back at his car, Ramsay drove around for a while, drank down their remaining beers.  _He_ didn’t feel inebriated at all.  In fact, he felt all keyed up, like electricity was coursing through his veins instead of blood.  He couldn’t go home like that; Roose would know in an instant something was up and it was still too early for his father to be in bed.

So he drank, cruised, and thought about Theon.

Truth be told, he’d been a bit concerned that his fascination with Theon wouldn’t hold up after spending more time with him.  It happened a lot; Ramsay would take interest in some project, throw his focus into it immediately only to lose interest just as instantaneously.  It drove Roose up the wall.

Sure, Theon was nice to look at, but that didn’t mean anything long-term.

He was pleasantly surprised this evening.  Theon was by turns confident and insecure and _clearly_ had no idea how to act around Ramsay.  So Ramsay had made sure to leave lots of room for awkward silences and sure enough, Theon had readily, _eagerly_ ran his mouth just to fill the gaps.  Ramsay had let him prattle on, contributing a few words only occasionally, just to make Theon feel like he was getting while he continued to give.  And give, and give.

It was so easy, it was almost laughable, but not in a _boring_ way, which made all the difference.  He found himself genuinely _having fun_ , pushing Theon, testing just how far he’d let Ramsay go _already_.

He’d debated whether or not to bring up just how far he’d gone exploring Theon’s Facebook profile and ultimately had taken the chance, which payed off _beautifully_.  Theon had readily accepted his explanation that he was “just looking out for his father” and hadn’t even _tried_ to tell him off for teasing him about his sweet tooth. 

Discussing up Robb Stark had seemed like a natural next step, since he’d come up organically anyway, although Ramsay found himself tensed while asking Theon’s friendship with him.  _Just… be a fucking virgin, baby, I wanna be the first…_

Theon hadn’t given up any details about _that_ though, so Ramsay’d had to find a way to bring it up later.  Instead, they’d talked about dead brothers, which wasn’t nearly as interesting, so Ramsay had suggested a change of venue _and_ offered to buy Theon ice cream, just so maybe he’d feel like he owed Ramsay something extra.  And because Ramsay wanted to watch him licking at a cone.

He was surprised that Theon had the balls to call him out on it.

“Why?” He’d asked bluntly and Ramsay had almost snapped, had wanted to put him in his place, but Theon had caught himself and apologized quickly enough for Ramsay to recover himself.  And good thing too.  Theon had been letting him push, but it wasn’t _that_ time yet.

They’d work up to it.

Instead of putting him in his place, Ramsay had explained.  Told Theon that he was _interested_.  That pleased him, the cocky little shit.  He’d tried to wheedle more out of Ramsay, asking him what he meant, as if he hadn’t just _said_.  So he’d asked if he’d ever let Robb fuck him to trip him up.

_That’d_ thrown him, to the point where he didn’t even seem to notice when Ramsay _told_ him what to order at the ice cream place, he’d just _done as Ramsay had said_ and ordered a cone.  Ramsay’d had to ignore him for a bit after that, because he’d have devoured Theon right there on the street if he hadn’t.

He’d asked about Robb again, once he’d calmed down a little bit, because he just _had to know_ for sure.  Theon had looked at him like he was crazy, insisting that _he and Robb were just like brothers_ , like that made a difference, like things didn’t just sometimes _happen anyway_.

But Theon had vehemently denied it and Ramsay was pretty sure he was still too wrong-footed by the question to even contemplate lying.  There could still have been someone else, though, so Ramsay had asked and been again satisfied by Theon’s answer.

Well.

Maybe a bit more than satisfied.

_“Kissed a couple guys, let one blow me once.  Just… never anything more.”_

So he _was_ a virgin.

Not that Theon would see it that way, but he’d come ‘round, once he had Ramsay’s cock in him, filling him up and ruining him from the inside out.

Ramsay sighed.  He’d finished the last beer, thinking.  He made a U-turn at the next intersection and headed towards home.

Talking about Theon’s sexual history, even vaguely, had taken the arrogance right out of him.  Suddenly he was awkward again, unsure what to do next.  Which was just fine, because Ramsay knew _exactly_.

Theon had thanked him humbly for everything even _before_ Ramsay had kissed him.  Of course he’d wanted _that_ , but he let Ramsay toy with him the way he wanted to, until he’d panicked about his stupid car.

Ramsay had offered Theon the option of spending the night at his place, but Theon said it felt too weird with Roose and Ramsay hadn’t pressed the issue.  They had plenty of time and anyway, Ramsay wasn’t going to fuck him tonight.  Especially now that he knew Theon was a virgin.

_That_ was a moment he was going to be sure to savor.

Theon had talked a lot on the ride back; he’d had a lot more to drink than Ramsay had.  He was worried about making it home okay, which had led them back to the dead brothers, who, reading between the lines, had both been real pieces of work and bullied _poor, sweet Theon_.  Ramsay were glad they were dead.  He’d made up his mind about Theon and _no one_ would be touching him anymore.

Except him.

Brothers.  What a fucking trip. 

So Ramsay had talked a little bit about dear, departed Domeric.

Not that Ramsay _missed_ his _prim, perfect_ half-brother, but vying with him for, among other things, Roose’s recognition, had lent a certain spice to his life.  He wouldn’t have even known about Roose’s existence, would stayed stuck in the city with his mother, if Domeric hadn’t found him.  He’d disobeyed Roose to do it and for that, Ramsay did have a certain affection for him.  Which didn’t negate the fact that he also hated his guts.

But, talking about what’d happened, it occurred to Ramsay then that he hadn’t felt this _good_ , this _engaged_ with something in a long time.  Since, in fact, Domeric had… died.

Ramsay pulled his car in next to his father’s and actually collected the beer bottles to be tossed in the recycling before he went into the house.

He’d gotten Theon’s number before they separated.  After waiting what felt like a reasonable amount of time for Theon to get home, he’d fired off a text.  He hadn’t gotten anything back, but that was all right.  Theon had had a long week.

Ramsay was confident it’d have the desired impact.

“Ramsay.”

He’d be so focused on Theon, he hadn’t noticed that a light was still on in Roose’s study.

“Father.” He said stiffly, paused in the doorway.

“Where have you been?”  Roose set aside the book he’d been reading.

Which meant he already knew.  Roose Bolton rarely asked questions he didn’t already know the answer to. 

And he rarely took an interest in Ramsay’s comings and goings.

“Out.”

Then, because he didn’t give a shit whether his father knew or not, “With Theon Greyjoy.”

“I realize that.  I saw his car as I was leaving the office.  Doing what?”

“We went out for ice cream.”  Making it sound innocent made it feel _filthy_.

His father sighed, removed his reading glasses, and stood.

“Ramsay, let’s be clear.  When I advised you to leave the boy be, I wasn’t asking.”

_No shit, Roose, you never fucking_ ask.

“I don’t care and I don’t care that you hired him or whatever the fuck you think—“

“Be that as it may,” Roose interrupted, even though he was still speaking normally and Ramsay was almost yelling, “If you are hell-bent on this course, _at least_ be discreet.  Things are said about you, Ramsay, which were never said of me, nor of your brother.  It’s past time you learned to consider how your actions reflect on your family.”

“My _family_ ,” Ramsay sneered, “Domeric’s _dead_ and you never even wanted m—“

This time Roose silenced him with a hand in his hair, pulling him back until Ramsay was looking _up_ at him.  It didn’t seem right that his father should be able to look so menacing in a bathrobe and pajamas.

“Where I put my dick is none of your concern.”

“I sincerely wish it didn’t have to be.” Roose retorted, “Who or what you choose to fuck is the truly the last thing I wish to concern myself with; therefore, _control yourself._ ”

His father released the grip on Ramsay’s hair.  He sat down again as if nothing had transpired.

“Go upstairs, Ramsay.”

Dismissed him.  Just like that.  Ramsay seethed.  _How dare he_ think he could tell Ramsay how to handle his pursuits.  Just because a few fucking pansy-asses got their fucking panties in a twist a few times…

But Theon wasn’t going to be some stupid one-night stand.  Ramsay had _plans_ for him.  Tonight had sealed it.  Theon had responded perfectly; he’d been self-assured, yet willing to go along with what Ramsay wanted.  Ramsay didn’t mind a challenge; he’d probably get bored if Theon didn’t push back _sometimes_.  But there was that sweet submissiveness underneath and he longed to exploit it.

So screw what his father wanted.  Ramsay didn’t need control, _Theon_ did.

And Ramsay was happy to oblige.

He’d _make_ Theon keep his mouth shut, because he’d make Theon _his_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading and commenting thus far. I really, really appreciate it and I love hearing from you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon and Ramsay take a new step in their relationship and have an awkward dinner with Roose; Theon goes to visit Robb at college and they talk about Ramsay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omfg I'm sorry this took me so long... this chapter ended up being 10 pages long, I'm not really sure how that happened. And I'm sorry this is turning into such a slow burn, but this chapter sets up a lot of things about what's gonna happen and yeah... I don't want to give too much away, but thanks as always for reading and your comments are very much appreciated!!

Things picked up the pace from there.  Now that it was all out in the open—their mutual interest declared—the dam had broken and Theon couldn’t get enough.

Ramsay would come by when Theon took his lunch at work.  They’d make out in the alley behind the deli where they’d gotten lunch the day they met (Ramsay had joked that he’d give Theon a different kind of meat there, but they hadn’t quite gotten to that point yet).  Theon had started sneaking plastic bags of Asha’s health food—sunflower seeds, granola—to take to work with him to snack on, since he was no longer using his breaks to eat.

They’d also started meeting up on campus, where they’d make out in the back of Ramsay’s car (it had more leg room than Theon’s) for a change of pace.

And suddenly, as it seems to always happens, now that he was hooked, he started hearing Ramsay’s name everywhere—in class, around town.  No one ever had anything _good_ to say.  Ramsay had roofies, Ramsay had been to juvie.  Even stuff about _suspicious death_ , in regards to Ramsay’s dead older brother, Domeric.  But it just sounded like small-town rumors.  There were certainly times with _he’d_ wished _his_ brothers were dead.

He never asked Ramsay about anything of the things he heard.

“Come out with me tomorrow.” Ramsay said.

It was Friday afternoon, again, and they were in Ramsay’s car, still in the parking lot at Roose’s office. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever you want.” Theon replied breathlessly.  He tried to recapture Ramsay’s lips with his own and was rebuffed.

Ramsay turned deftly away.  “All my friends want to meet you.” He continued.

Theon nodded, not really listening, intently trying to divert Ramsay’s attention back to what they’d been doing.  He hooked a finger through one of the belt loops on Ramsay’s jeans and ground their hips together so Ramsay could feel how hard he was.  He leaned in, pressing kisses to Ramsay’s neck, licking and suckling.

“Hey!”  Ramsay rapped his knuckles against the side of his head.  “Stop that!”

“But you like it…” Theon groaned into the dip above Ramsay’s collarbone, lapping at it.

“Are you even listening to me?” Ramsay asked peevishly.

“Yeah, yeah, tomorrow night, I’ll—shit!”

“ _What_?”

“I told Robb I’d drive up and visit him at school tomorrow.  He invited me ages ago, I almost forgot.  I’m sorry.  I’ll make it up to you.”

He bent his head back to Ramsay’s neck, only to be swatted away.

“Ow!  Ramsay!”

They’d been lying, tangled together, in the back seat, Theon half straddled across Ramsay’s lap.  Now Ramsay pushed Theon off him, until he was back against the door, and dislodged his legs from where they’d been trapped underneath Theon’s.

“What the fu—“ Ramsay got out of the car and slammed the door behind him, cutting off Theon’s aggravated question.  A second later, he opened the front door and slid into the driver’s seat.  Theon clamored over the center console as Ramsay turned the ignition and put the car in drive.

“Where are we going?” He asked, panting from the effort of maneuvering inside the vehicle.  He was still hard, his cock pressed against the front of his pants, creating friction that was approaching unbearable, now that he lost Ramsay’s attention.

“I’ve had it with this high school bullshit.” Growled Ramsay.  He jerked the wheel, pulling the car out of the parking lot, tires screeching. 

Theon thought about asking what he meant, but it seemed wiser to just wait and see.  They passed the drive in silence, Ramsay’s hand on his thigh, kneading and squeezing, the only sign he knew Theon was even there.

They drove east, almost into the _nicest_ part of town, before Ramsay turned off onto a hidden driveway Theon hadn’t noticed cutting through the thick forest _growing_ on either side of the main road.  As the car weaved up the hill, a house appeared ahead of them.

“Whoa.” Theon breathed, “You live _there_?”  Roose’s car was parked out front, and the house was _enormous_.

“Yeah.” Ramsay grinned, his early bad mood seemingly forgotten for the time being.  “Stick with me, baby, I’ll treat you right.”  Like he had something to do with the fact that _Roose_ had money.

“C’mon.”  Ramsay motioned him out of the car.

Theon hesitated on the porch.  “Your dad’s home… Won’t he be pissed that you’re fucking his employee?”

They weren’t—hadn’t— _yet_ , but it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it.  A lot.

“He doesn’t care what I do.” Ramsay said blithely, pushing the door open.  “We’re going straight up to my room anyway.  Roose made me an apartment in the attic; it’s practically like we don’t even live together.”

Theon waffled over it for about half a second; desire was a powerful motivator.  “All right, let’s go.  Quick though.”

They were quick, sort of; Ramsay kissed him again inside the foyer, up against the wall, his back padded against several jackets that hung there on hooks.  His lips were insistent, grinding against Theon’s until they parted to admit Ramsay’s probing tongue.  It was like they hadn’t been spending all their time together with lips locked.  Ramsay sucked Theon’s tongue into his mouth, held it between his teeth. 

Then abruptly released him.

“Upstairs.  Now.”

Theon didn’t need to be told twice.  They took the stairs in a hurry, two flights up to Ramsay’s door.  It slammed shut behind them.  The idea that he was now existing in Ramsay’s personal space gave Theon pause, made him want to look around, to try and get a feel for the person he’d become so rapidly addicted to, who still remained such a mystery.

But Ramsay was shoving him backwards, hands grabbing Theon’s sides, urging, relentless.

“On the bed.  _Get on the bed_.”

The backs of his knees hit the mattress and Theon let himself fall back, keeping himself propped up on his elbows.  Then Ramsay was on him, wrenching his wrists above his head, dropping his back to the bed and leaving him breathless. 

“Oh!” He gasped, “Ramsay…” Ramsay was pressing his hands into his hips.  Theon tried to thread his fingers into Ramsay’s hair but Ramsay grabbed him again, returning his arms to their former position.

“No.” He said, kissing Theon.

The command barely registered and all of five seconds later, he was reaching for Ramsay again, yearning. 

“ _No_.”  He wasn’t sure when or how Ramsay got his belt off, but he was looping it around Theon’s wrist, shoving him further up the bed so he could bind him to the headboard. 

“ _Fuck_.”  The belt was too short to restrain Theon’s other hand.  Ramsay tugged his own pants off.  The legs were used to tie Theon’s remaining hand.

Everything was happening rather quickly.  Ramsay got Theon’s fly down.  Settled himself between Theon’s legs.  Maneuvered his leaking cock free.

Theon had had his cock sucked dozens—maybe even hundreds—of times before, and he thought he knew what a good blowjob was.  But Ramsay undid him.

Maybe it was all the sexual tension built up between them—it’d never been like that with anyone before.  Maybe it was just that he was ready, _so ready_ , that whatever Ramsay did was _bound_ to feel amazing—but he didn’t think so.  And he’d think about the next moments _plenty_.

Ramsay held nothing back and he didn’t fuck around.  There was no awkward fumbling, no embarrassed, whispered apologizes.  Just Theon’s aching cock and Ramsay’s warm, wet mouth, taking him deeper.  It was like he didn’t even need to _breathe_ —but Theon did, and it was getting harder and harder.  His exhalations caught in his throat every time Ramsay backed off just a bit, teasing the tip with his tongue.

And when he felt just the slightest brush of Ramsay’s fingertip against his entrance, he gasped—“oh, _please_ ”—and suddenly he was coming and coming, chaffing his wrists against their bindings, leather and clothe equally abrasive when every nerve ending felt flayed raw.

Ramsay pulled off Theon as he came, catching his emissions in his hand instead. Casually, he lifted a finger to his lips and tried a taste, that quick pink tongue darting again, before he grabbed a few tissues from the box on his nightstand. Theon stayed where he was, still breathing heavily, trying to savor the aftermath of his orgasm. 

Ramsay settled on the bed next to him. He spooned against Theon's side and ran his hands lightly down his stomach. Theon's erection had flagged a bit but Ramsay didn't seem to mind. His fingers teased lightly across the tip of him. Theon jumped. Touching afterwards wasn't something he engaged in and his cock remained hyper-sensitive. He shuddered at the odd sensation of both the pleasure of being touched there and pain of what was now over-stimulation.

Ramsay smiled as Theon keened. 

"Untie me." His wrists were still bound to the bedposts. 

"Mmmm..." Ramsay considered, "I don't know, I quite like you like this..."

He gave Theon's cock a squeeze.

"I could get you back--suck you--"

But Ramsay seemed uninterested, in spite of cock still being hard and pressed up against Theon's leg.

"Maybe later." 

Ramsay rolled off him and sat up as static crackled. "Ramsay," Roose spoke matter-of-factoy, his voice echoing through the intercom installed in the wall, "If I am having a dinner guest, I would like to know."

"Stay for dinner?" Ramsay asked, "Whatever it is, it'll be decent enough."

"Uh, yeah, all right." Theon agreed, not really understand why Ramsay couldn't just _ask_ Roose what they'd be having for dinner.

Ramsay pressed a button on the intercom panel. "We're both eating."

There was no follow-up from Roose.

"We've got a little time to kill. Food probably won't be ready for another half hour. He's got it down to a science, my dad. Dinner at the same time every day, ever since I was a little kid. You don't show up, you don't eat."

"At my house we just ordered a lot of take-out."

Ramsay set about releasing Theon's wrists and changed the subject. "Let's go.  We'll pick up your car.  If you can't come out with me tomorrow, I want you to spend the night."

After the blowjob he'd just received, that plan aligned with Theon's interests perfectly. He nodded as he tucked his cock back into his pants.

They didn’t encounter Roose on the way out, but Theon could hear him in the kitchen:  The staccato knocking of a knife on a cutting board.

The drive to the office and back seemed to go a lot faster now that his cock was sated.  Theon parked behind Ramsay and they re-entered the house to be greeted by the scent of a meal that was surely nearing completion.  Ramsay showed him to the dining room.

Theon felt exceedingly out of place again, just like he had in Roose’s office on his first day.  They sat in high-backed chairs, at a long table made out of some expensive type of wood.  The table was dressed only in a lace runner.  And there were _candlesticks_.

Ramsay was smirking at him from across the table.  He was gaping, turning from side to side to take in the elegant surroundings.  Theon looked down at his plate inside.  Of course it was _china_.  With a _cloth_ napkin folded in its center.

The food Roose carried in from the kitchen smelled amazing too.  He had made some kind of fancy pasta mixed with vegetables.  It looked much different from the giant plates of spaghetti Asha used to make herself before a swim meet.

“Wow.” Theon breathed, “Uh, everything looks great, Mr. Bolton.  Thank you for, uh, having me.”

Ramsay rolled his eyes, mouthing, “suck up” at Theon while he helped himself to the food.

Either Roose didn’t notice Ramsay’s taunt or he chose to ignore it.

“Pasta primavera.  Simple, but effective.  And you’re welcome, Theon.”

Ramsay had already started attacking everything on his plate.  Theon grabbed a piece of Italian bread.  He felt Roose’s eyes on him as he hesitantly tried a bite of the main course.  It was delicious.  He dug in with new vigor.

“How is your father?” Roose asked right as Theon took a large bite. 

He struggled not to choke as he hurried to swallow.

“Fine, I think.” He swallowed fully.  “I think there’s a lot of fighting, between my uncles?  At work?  But we don’t really talk much.”

Ramsay laughed.  “ _So_ unlike us, right Dad?”

Roose didn’t dignify that with a response.

Later that night, back in Ramsay’s room, Theon finally got to have a look around while Ramsay showered.  He hadn’t lied; Roose had very literally created for his son a fully-functional apartment in the attic, nicer than most studios.  Thinking of it only as “Ramsay’s room” didn’t really do it justice.  The kitchen was equipped with the standard appliances and there was even a large flat-screen mounted on the wall, with a couch opposite, in the area before Ramsay’s _actual_ bedroom.

Ramsay emerged from the bathroom in a swirl of steam, a towel knotted around his waist.  Theon was again thrown by how good he looked.  And by how much he liked looking _up_ at him, from his place on the couch.

“You wanna grab a shower?” Ramsay asked, nodding towards the bathroom.

Theon got up and went to him instead, not caring that Ramsay was still dripping wet, letting his shirt absorb the moisture, just to get close to him.   “Maybe later.”  Theon dropped to his knees, tugging Ramsay’s towel off.

Chuckling, Ramsay grabbed his hands and held him back.  “Back on the couch.  I don’t want you sucking me off.”

Theon sat down heavily and thought about protesting as Ramsay situated himself next to him.  Ramsay caught the look on his face.  “You don’t need to yet.”  He pressed Theon’s palm to his erection before Theon could puzzle out his meaning.

Ramsay came rutting into Theon’s hand, hips bucking hard, eyes shut.  One hand was clamped down on Theon’s shoulder while the other squeezed around his wrist, urging him faster and faster.  He held Theon’s eyes afterwards and, knowing it would please Ramsay, without quite knowing why, Theon lifted his hand to his mouth.

Ramsay exhaled sharply as Theon licked his come from his fingers.

He thought Ramsay might grab him after that.  Hold him down.  Fuck him.

But he didn’t.

And later that night, though Theon stayed over, Ramsay made him up a bed on the couch.

“I don’t like anyone touching me while I sleep.” He offered in explanation, and Theon didn’t want to seem pushy.  He already felt like everything was backwards with Ramsay.  He’d never had a… thing… with someone where he didn’t feel like he was calling all the shots, especially in regards to sex.  _He_ said when it happened and _he_ defined the parameters of the relationship (usually “friends with benefits” or some other bullshit not-label). 

With Ramsay, he never knew what was going to happen next.  He was just as likely to fuck Theon as he was to ignore him.  Theon never thought he’d _like_ it as much as he did.  He really, really did.  The strange, possibly—probably—dangerous undertones he sometimes felt made things with Ramsay all the more enticing.

He didn’t want it to stop.

The alarm on his phone woke him at seven the next morning.  From the bed, Ramsay groaned and rolled over.  Theon dressed quickly in yesterday’s clothes.  Furtively, not that anyone was there to see, he darted over to press a light kiss to Ramsay’s cheek before slipping out the door, through the rest of the house, and out to his car.

In the car, he texted Robb that he was on his way. 

Ten minutes later, he texted Ramsay.

_Hey, if you still wanted to go out tonight, I could probably leave Robb’s a little early and get back in time for us to still do something… let me know??  And thanks for last night._

The whole drive up north, Theon couldn't stop thinking about Ramsay. Specifically, he couldn't stop thinking about Ramsay's full lips, wrapped around his cock. 

Theon considered himself something of a blowjob connoisseur but he had never experienced anything like that before. He was fairly certain he has never come so hard in his life.  Having his hands tied, unable to touch Ramsay, to urge him faster when he was close, had only intensified the moment of his orgasm. Theon never had never thought of himself as a person who'd like that sort of thing--he liked his sexual encounters more straightforward--but with Ramsay... well, everything was turning out different with Ramsay, wasn't it?

A melodic beeping interrupted Theon's contemplations. His phone, thrown on the passenger's seat next to him, was lighting up, Asha's name on the display.

He grabbed for it. "Hey Asha, I'm in the car driving up to see Robb."

"Put me on speaker." Asha ordered, "You didn't come home last night."

Theon pushed the speakerphone button. "I went out after work. Then I ahh--stayed over with someone."

"A girl?" Asha asked, and Theon felt unreasonably irritated by her certainty. Why did she always assume it was a girl? 

He sighed. He wasn't being fair. Hardly anyone knew he could be into guys too. But right now, he wished Asha had just picked up on it somehow. It would make telling her about Ramsay a lot easier.

With all the rumors swirling around about Ramsay, Theon sometimes felt absurdly guilty being involved with him without having _really_ mentioned it to anyone.

He still hadn't decided what--if anything--he was going to tell Robb about it.

"I had a little too much to drink. I didn't want to risk driving home myself." He said to Asha instead of _actually_ explaining. She'd accept that readily enough.  _Only thing you ever did for me, Rodrick, Maron. Thanks a bunch._

His sister sighed on the other line. "All right, well, that's good. Just... remember to text me or something next time, okay?"  

"Yeah, sure, Asha, you got it." He never remembered.

"Have fun with Robb."

They hung up. Ramsay had texted back while he'd been talking to Asha.

_Good. See you later._

Theon smiled in spite of himself. It felt strange and he tried to shift his focus exclusively to driving for the next two hours.

Robb met him outside his dorm building. It had been a few weeks since they'd seen each other and Theon finally acknowledged that he'd been worried something would have changed between them. Robb was living the dream; away from home, parents, the small town where they'd spent their whole lives.  

Before, Theon had always been the one getting himself in (and out) of trouble, pushing Balon's buttons, getting fucked up and getting laid. He'd always got the sense that Robb admired that he was ballsy enough to do those things; Robb himself usually felt weighted down the the responsibility of being the oldest Stark kid to really let loose.

But now Robb was experiencing a whole bunch of new things for the first time, and maybe he'd be bored by Theon now, or feel like Theon was beneath him.

Except Robb hugged him and clapped him on the back like it'd be only minutes since they'd last seen each other and immediately touched on a bunch of different topics and things he'd been getting up to, which he wanted Theon's advice on.

"…And I've been hanging out with this girl. Her name is Jeyne and she's in the nursing program. I met her in my science requirement--we were doing a dissection and I thought I was going to be sick--she noticed and came over to help me, I was so embarrassed. But she didn't make fun of me over it at all, and we made plans and hung out that weekend. And a couple of times since then." Robb said.  He was giving Theon a tour around campus and updating him on his life at the same time.

“So…?” Theon raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“So what?” Robb asked, seemingly confused.

“So is she your girlfriend now?  _Obviously_ she’s into you.”

“Dude, no!  We haven’t even done anything—well okay, we’ve kissed a few times, but—“

“ _Come on_.  If she’s kissing you, _and_ continuing to hang out with you, you’ve gotta make things official, man.  She clearly wants you to.”

“ _You_ never do.”  Robb threw up his hands at the look on Theon’s face.  “Okay, okay, you win.  I’ll ask her after this weekend’s over, okay?”

“Good.” Theon replied.  And since it seemed like a good enough time to bring it up… “Ah, actually, that reminds me.  I gotta head out tonight a little bit earlier than I planned.  I’ve got… I’ve got someone to see at home.”

Now it was time for Robb to give _him_ a look.  “Who is it?  Is it Kyra, you’ve been seeing her on and off for a while…”

“No, no!  It’s someone else.”

“Well they must be someone fucking special, if _Theon Greyjoy_ is rearranging plans to see them.”

They’d paused in their walking at some point, standing in the middle of the quad.  Theon studied Robb, debating, looking for something in his face that suggested he’d be angry if Theon told him…

But of course there was nothing.  This was _Robb_.  They’d been best friends practically since they were in diapers.  He wasn’t even pissed that Theon was bailing on plans they’d made ages ago. 

Robb was looking at him expectantly.

“I’ve got a new job, working for Roose Bolton, in his office, as his assistant.  I’ve kinda got this… this thing, going with his son, Ramsay.  I’m not even real sure how it happened, we just—“

“Wait, _what_?”

Theon held up his hands.  “Hey, I wanted to hear about what you’ve been up to!  I was getting to it!”

Robb grabbed Theon by the elbow and walked him off the sidewalk.  They’d been getting loud.  They stood under a tree, in the shade, and Robb said, “I’m not upset that you hadn’t told me.  It’s just… _Ramsay Bolton_?  You do know about him, right?”

Theon shrugged, rolled his eyes.  “If you mean all that stuff about his dad maybe raping his mom… I haven’t exactly found a good time to ask, ‘hey, when you were conceived, was everyone involved consenting?’  Just haven’t found the right moment to bring it up, you know?”

Robb gave him a hard look.  “I’m not even talking about that.”  And Theon had known he wasn’t.  Robb wasn’t going to do something like judge Ramsay over something as inane as the circumstances of his birth.  Sure, he’d judge _Roose_ , depending on what he believed, Robb was honorable and like that… but he wouldn’t fault Ramsay for it.

“What are you talking about then?”

 Robb sat down, crossing his legs under him on the grass and leaned back.  Theon sat facing him. 

“You know my dad has had business dealings with Roose Bolton.  Things have always turned out fine, but he’s said he still gets a bad feeling every time… like, not that Roose has _done_ anything, my dad just doesn't really trust him.”

“Ohh-kay… What does this have to do with Ramsay?  I know he sort of has a reputation, but it’s just rumors, you know?”

“It’s not just all small town gossip.” Robb said plainly, “My dad told me.  Ramsay was living with his mom in the city, until Domeric got in touch with him and started bringing him around Roose’s place.  Eventually he moved in with them.  Roose tried to get him into school with us—“

Theon couldn’t help himself; he laughed, trying to picture Ramsay at their fancy prep school.  In a _uniform_.

Robb shot him a look.  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, it’s just funny, imagining that…”

“The administration wouldn’t admit him.” He continued, “Too many _behavioral issues_.  My mom—you know she’s on the PTA—said there were a couple incidents.  He gave a kid third-degree burns with a Bunsen burner, stabbed another one in the arm with a knife he brought to school.  This was in _middle school_.”

  
“That’s all pretty impressive, but come on, Robb.  I was hardly the best-behaved student back in the day.” 

It was true.  Although Theon rated pretty solidly as “class clown” as opposed to “juvenile delinquent.” 

Of course Robb didn’t buy that excuse.

“This was all before he discovered sex.  Do you know how many times Sansa’s told me that she left a party because Ramsay and his friends showed up?” Robb said pointedly, “ _More_ than enough, believe me.  It pisses me off, hearing stuff like that.  As her brother and as, you know, _a decent human being_.”

Theon shifted, stretching his legs out in front of him, and picked at a few blades of grass, not looking at Robb.

“Yeah well, we haven’t really done anything yet.  Just… like you said, with you and Jeyne, just making out and stuff.  It’s not like he’s my _boyfriend_.  It’s just been… I dunno, something different.  Apart from work and school, I didn’t really have anything going on except this thing with Ramsay.  And work and school’s _boring_.”  And Ramsay… Ramsay was definitely not boring.

Robb was contrite.  “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.  The stuff with Ramsay… who knows, maybe he’s grown out of it.  You’re my best friend, I know you know how to take care of yourself, and I want you to be happy.”

He _was_ happy, Theon reflected later, on the drive home.  Or at least, he was _having fun._ He and Robb had eaten a late lunch, had a drink (just one each), before Theon had decided to call it a day and hit the road so he’d be sure to make it home in time to meet Ramsay.  The sky had darkened while they had been in the restaurant and, by the time they’d left, rain had started to fall.

The wind picked up as Theon unlocked his car and threw himself into the driver’s seat.  The rain was driving right into his windshield; visibility was shit.  At least he had plenty of time.  He flicked on the radio to drown out the drumming of the rain on the roof and squinted at the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to sin with me further or chat with me about my garbage (or Thramsay/House Bolton in general), feel free to join me on tumblr at <http://tender-vittles.tumblr.com/> or on twitter [https://twitter.com/pip_valentine/](https://twitter.com/pip_valentine)~!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon's car continues to be a piece of crap; Roose Bolton encourages safe sex practices; Ramsay ups the ante.

Ramsay was livid.  He paced around his bedroom, checked his phone for the thousandth time, then chucked it on the bed.  It bounced on the mattress and onto the floor and he felt like he was going to put his fist through the wall if Theon didn’t _answer his fucking messages_.  He’d been waiting for three hours, way later than he expected to be, after receiving Theon’s text that morning, saying he’d get home in time for them to go out as Ramsay had planned.

_He should have been back by now._

Ramsay had already called Damon, cancelled the plans they’d made, so that he could call and text Theon incessantly while staring angrily out the window at the pouring rain.

Everything had been going so _well_.  Until Theon had informed him yesterday afternoon that he had plans to see Robb Stark today.

He’d been pissed, initially, but it was also weirdly _cute_ , how Theon thought his life was still his own.  Ramsay’d had to up the ante though, just to make _sure_ Theon was good and snared, so he’d taken Theon back to his place.

At least he’d gotten his hooks in deep enough that there was no real argument over whether or not Roose would approve of what they were doing.  Theon had balked only the once; he was eager too.  So Ramsay had gotten him upstairs and, with little preamble, threw him on the bed and gave him a blowjob he’d remember for the rest of his life.

Let Robb Stark try and compete with that.

Seemingly, it had worked.  Theon Greyjoy wasn’t exactly the reciprocating type, but after he’d come, he’d practically _begged_ for Ramsay’s cock in his mouth.  As much as Ramsay _wanted_ to try his little pet project’s mouth, he’d rebuffed Theon instead.  He didn’t want to have him before he could really enjoy it, and it was doubtful Ramsay’d be able to get off with Theon as he was now.  Better to wait until he could have him bruised and bitten, his lips and tongue swollen.

His father _was_ always telling him he had to learn patience.

A handjob had sufficed instead.  Ramsay had stared at the chafe mark on Theon’s wrist where he’d been bound to Ramsay’s bed with his belt while Ramsay went down on him (a risk that had certainly paid off).  It was barely even red, and that would fade before too long, but the _promise_ it held was the important thing. 

Ramsay came into Theon’s hand with eyes shut, imagining how, the next time he gave Theon a mark like that, it wouldn’t be so nice…

He’d be so _pleased_ that morning, when he’d woke to Theon’s alarm and listened to him shuffling around in the pale early morning light.  He’d cracked an eye open just a tiny bit to watch Theon dress and, just before leaving, hover near Ramsay’s bed, a mystified little smile on his face, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real.  Theon had even _kissed him_ , softly, on the cheek, before scurrying, embarrassed, out the door.

Then he’d texted Ramsay, telling him he could bail on Robb early to go out like Ramsay had planned.  That’d been the icing on the cake, really.  Ramsay knew he could suck dick, when he felt like it, but he hadn’t expected Theon to be _quite_ so responsive.

And now this.  Nothing, for hours. 

Ramsay swiped his phone off the floor.  No new messages.  No calls.  He’d been keeping it on silent so he didn’t break something every time another minute passed with no word from Theon.

“ _Fuck_ this!”  He was sick of walking the floor in circles like a fucking caged animal.  “Who does he think he is?” He snarled to the empty room.

“Ramsay.  Dinner.”  His father’s voice on the intercom.  He must have been being loud.

“Not hungry.” He growled through the speaker, pressing so hard on the transmit button that his fingertip turned white.

Maybe he’d get out of here.  Maybe he’d drive up to Robb Stark’s fancy state school and track Theon down.  Beat it into him that he was _Ramsay’s_ now and he’d better fucking learn that.

He grabbed his jacket off the couch, shrugged it on.  His phone lit up in his hands.

“Where the _fuck_ are you?”  Probably not the _best_ way to approach things, but screw it.

“I’m sorry.” Theon choked.  He sounded shaken.  “My car… it’s a piece of shit, right?  It died in the middle of the fuckin’ highway.  I’m waiting for a tow truck, I’ve been waiting forever, I thought I could get it all take care of before—I—I’m sorry.”

Ramsay huffed a breath through his nose.  “Where?”

“What?” Theon asked.

Forcing the words through clenched teeth, “Where.  Are.  You.”

“I don’t—I’ll text you the location, your phone can get you here easy.”  At least Theon didn’t question him.  _At least_ he knew enough not to do that.

“Don’t you fucking move.”  He hung up.  An order didn’t require a response.  For good measure, he texted Theon the same after receiving a message with GPS coordinates attached.

Ramsay pounded down the stairs and stormed out of the house.  His anger hadn’t lessened; if anything, it had only intensified.  Apart from him being dead in a wreck, there was no excuse for Theon’s failure to let Ramsay know what was happening.

He dialed Alyn.  “I’m going to text you a location, get your truck and get over there.  I’ll meet you.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Was the reply.

He clicked off.  Thank _fuck_ some people knew how to listen.

Driving on, Ramsay seethed and thought about how he would deal with Theon.  It seemed it was past time they took the _next step_ in their _relationship_ …

He imagined Theon’s nose snapping under his fist.  The way his face would look covered in blood, how it’d swell until he couldn’t talk right.  Or Ramsay could choke him, give him a pretty necklace—a collar—so he’d remember who he belonged to.

Or he could just fuck him.

That was good.  He felt almost in control of himself again.

The rain continued to come down in sheets, but Ramsay kept his foot resolutely on the gas the whole way.  When flashing hazard lights appeared ahead of him, he nearly passed by Theon’s car, but skidded to a stop right in time.  There was nothing on the road out this way, but Theon hadn’t even broken down that far outside of town.  _Stupid fuck, if he’d just fucking called…_

Theon was standing in the rain, soaking wet, head down, hair streaming into his face.

Seeing him looking pitiful served to renew Ramsay’s rage.  He threw his car into park before he stepped out into the storm, slamming the door behind him.  Theon’s body hit the side of his own car with an equally satisfying thump.  It wasn’t enough though; Ramsay grabbed him by the shoulders, slamming him against the driver’s side door again, and once more for good measure.

“I need to know where you _are_!”  He got right up into Theon’s face as he shouted over the sound of the rain.  “I need to know where you _are_ , every _minute_ of every _day_ , do you understand me?  _Do you understand_?”

He was dimly aware of Alyn pulling his father’s tow truck off onto the side of the road.  Theon was trembling in his grasp, trying to flinch away, but Ramsay had him caught; his fingers were digging into his biceps in the way that must have been painful.  His chest rose and fell erratically.  In the glow of headlights, Ramsay could see that he was crying.

Gratified, at least for the moment, he released Theon and walked over to Alyn, still waiting in the truck.  The window squeaked in the wet as it rolled down.

“Whatcha want me to do?” Alyn asked.

“Tow it.  Fix it.  Idiot.”

“Well no shit.  And is someone gonna pay me for that?”

Ramsay took a deep breath.  Mentally counted to ten. 

Domeric had taught him that, and, as much as he resented acknowledging his brother’s influence, he occasionally still found the skill useful.  When he couldn’t get what he wanted by force.

“I’ll get you something later, just _do it_.”  He stalked off to go deal with Theon, who hadn’t moved.

 _Good.  That was good._   Maybe he could be calm enough to deal with what had to happen next.

“Come on.” He beckoned.  There was no need to wait around.  Alyn would take care of things from there.

He got Theon into the car, buckled the seatbelt across his lap.  “Alyn’s father’s a mechanic.  He’ll get your car back safe and sound.  Okay?”

Theon sniffled.  “Yeah.” He rasped.

Then—

“I understand.  What you said before, about… about letting you know where I am.  I mean, I got it—yeah?”  He clearly didn’t—get it.  But that was all right.  Ramsay didn’t require _understanding_ , not really… just complete and total acquiescence.  He had the sense he would have that now, if he played his cards right and got Theon through this.

Ramsay kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.  “Want to tell me what happened then?” He asked, as if it didn’t matter to him at all.

“I left early, like I said I would.  Only it’d started to rain.  I thought I had plenty of time but, but, _fuck_ , but my car just… it just _stopped working_ because it’s a piece of shit, like I’m a piece of shit, I’m a piece of shit for thinking I’d just get a tow and still make it back in time and you wouldn’t have to know.  I didn’t want you to be mad—I like being—I mean, I like this—whatever this is.  And I figured you’d be mad… if I called and bailed on you again, I mean.  I just don’t want to _ruin_ things.” 

Theon had grown increasingly more hysterical during the course of this little speech, his words punctuated by hiccups and desperate gasps for air.  Ramsay watched his face in the rearview mirror.  He blinked helplessly when he finished, unsure, seeking guidance.

Ramsay didn’t offer any.  Self-pitying excuses didn’t interest him, so he didn’t say anything.  Just drove, and waited.

Theon was uncomfortable with long silences and, as always, he was compelled to fill the gap.  “I’m sorry.”

Ramsay waited.

“Ramsay?”

He grunted.

“I’m sorry, okay?  I won’t… I won’t do it again.”

Thank fuck they were almost home, because _that_ —the way Theon said it, submissive and defeated, in his bedraggled state—went straight to Ramsay’s cock.

“We’ll talk about it later.”  He knew how this was going to go now.  He hustled Theon into the house with a hand at the back of his neck. 

They passed Roose on the way upstairs.

"Ramsay."

He jerked Theon to a stop.

"There are condoms under my bathroom sink."

" _Fuck_ , Roose."  But loathe as he was to admit it, Theon, who had his face with his hands as he blushed red, was a virgin and Ramsay was going to need something to slick him up...

Roose had lube _and_ condoms. Ramsay took both. What the hell; Roose had offered.

He herded Theon into his room.  "Clothes off, you're dripping everywhere." Theon did as he was told without speaking. He was half hard already.  He gestured for Theon to wait on the bed

Ramsay stripped off his own wet clothes, watching Theon settle himself back against the pillows. 

Ramsay undressed himself and appraised his prize.  It was the first time he had seen Theon fully unclothed.  There wasn’t much meat on him at all; he could see the outline of his ribs, moving as he breathed.  He was pale all over, except for his nipples, which were tight little rose buds on his chest as he shivered.  He looked delectable; vulnerable and insecure, but his current position wasn’t conductive to a hard fuck.

“No.” He ordered, “Turn over, on your front.  Up on all fours."

Theon whimpered as Ramsay spread him roughly. Ramsay ignored him; he had to learn sometime how it was going to be.

He was pinched up tight.  Ramsay tore open a packet of lube with his teeth.  He coated a finger and pressed the tip to Theon’s entrance.  Unlike the last time Ramsay had touched him there, Theon flinched, lurching forward on the bed.

“Hold still!” Ramsay delivered a stinging slap to Theon’s ass to accentuate his words.  “I gotta get you ready first.”   He worked the tip of his finger against Theon again, forcing his way inside.  Theon’s body resisted him, fought the intrusion, but with his free hand on Theon’s hip, Ramsay rocked him back, forcing him to take more.

Theon whimpered.  “Please… I’ve never—“

“I don’t give a fuck.” Ramsay told him bluntly, “This isn’t _for_ you.  I just don't wanna break my fuckin' dick off in your ass.”

It was disappointing that he had to bother with this _at all_ , but there was no way Theon would be able to take his cock without preparation.  He added a second finger, scissored the two of them back and forth.  Theon shook.  He was crying again, hands fisted in the bedcovers.

“You think tears are gonna make this stop?  I thought you were so tough, so _smart_ , gonna handle everything all by your fucking self, can’t take your head out of your ass long enough to make a fucking _phone call_ … There’s a reason you’re not up at school with your _best buddy Robb_ and you know it…”

He pulled his fingers out of Theon abruptly.  His hole immediately pinched back up; it barely looked any different for having two of Ramsay’s thick fingers stuffed up inside.  Not that Ramsay cared.  He was hard, _so hard_ , and it was time.  He lined his cock up against Theon’s ass and pushed.

It was as if he hadn’t bothered to open Theon up at all.  His cock met with immediate resistance.

Theon whined beneath him. "Please, you're too big, I can't--"

"I have _had it_ with your fucking excuses." The tip of him had almost breached Theon's entrance. He rolled his hips and pulled Theon back against him. That did the trick. Theon gasped a moan as Ramsay rutted against him, _into_ him, forcing him to take him all the way.

“After what you pulled tonight, you better be grateful I’m touching you at all."

Theon's body was tight and warm around him, milking his cock and making him drive into Theon harder and harder. He shifted a hand from Theon's hip to his cock. 

"Oh, you like that?" Theon was as hard as he'd been when Ramsay had sucked his cock. Ramsay drove his hips forward as hard as he could. “Is that what you want?"

Theon whimpered indecipherably, but nodded his head. His face was buried into the sheets and his body shook with the force of his cries and Ramsay's thrusts.

Ramsay fucked him long and hard. Whenever he felt himself getting close, he'd focus on other things… Roose offering him condoms downstairs, attending on of Domeric’s insufferable harp recitals… until the urgent _need_ to spill abated.

He raked his nails down Theon's side, marked his neck and shoulders with his teeth. He plowed him until Theon was no longer wet and then he fucked into that sweet friction to the sound of Theon's whines of discomfort. As Theon wriggled under him, Ramsay continued to stroke his cock.  And finally, in spite of the pain of Ramsay's relentless driving, Theon moaned and clenched around Ramsay's cock, spilling into his hand.

That was too much for Ramsay and he followed shortly after, teeth biting down into Theon's shoulder at his well-earned moment of pleasure.

Ramsay rolled off, onto his back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.  He brushed his sweat-damp hair off his forehead as his breathing slowly returned to normal and closed his eyes, for the moment content.

After a moment, fingers tentatively brushed over his chest.  Ramsay didn’t brush them away, but neither did he move.  Just let Theon explore and gently caress his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered finally.  As if he hadn’t already apologized.

Ramsay shifted, stretched a little.  “Sorry for…?”

“For not calling you straight out, for thinking that I could handle things.  For—for thinking I could keep something from you.”

That was a pleasant surprise.  Ramsay had expected Theon to keep making excuses, the way he had in the car, or to assume that Ramsay fucking him had been some kind of demonstration of forgiveness.   

“You understand then?  How it’s going to be?  Do you _really_?”

Theon seemed to consider for a moment.  He had tucked himself against Ramsay’s side and was peering up at him like a scolded child.  But even as he tried to look contrite, Theon still appeared quite coquettish instead. 

_Little tease_.

“Yeah,” He sniffed, “I mean, I think so.  And… I’ll, I’ll listen, from now on.  Do what you want, not hide anything.  I’ll be good.”  

“You better.  If we’re going to be _together_ , you know?”

There is was, the magic words.  Theon’s face light up and he struggled to hide his excitement.  Ramsay didn’t let on that he’d notice any change to Theon’s expression.  It was one of the things he enjoyed most; Theon’s continual failure to _not_ wear his heart on his sleeve. 

Theon nibbled his lip, looking like he wanted to confirm what Ramsay meant by “together” but was too anxious to bring it up for fear that Ramsay would reconsider and take it back.  Instead he nodded furtively, still fretful. 

“Get up, get in the shower.” Ramsay ordered, “You’re filthy.”  They both were; the room reeked of sex and sweat.  Theon’s hair was still damp from the rain and was tangled about his face. 

Theon scampered up, almost tripping over himself lest he piss Ramsay off by taking too long. Unnecessary at the moment, but who was Ramsay to discourage the development of good habits?

Ramsay followed him into the bathroom.  Theon was bent over, trying to start the water, and he jumped when he felt Ramsay’s presence behind him.  “Get in.” Ramsay ordered.  The bathroom was small and it felt cramped enough when it was just him.  The water was still cold, but again, Theon gave no argument, just stepped over the side of the tub and shivered in the spray.  

When the water was warm enough, Ramsay joined him.

Ramsay hadn’t been sure how he would feel about things like this, if he would be able to put up with Theon sharing his spaces—his shower, his bed, his life.  He’d never actively tried to include someone in his life in this way before.  Sure, Domeric had been around, and they’d shared—certain things—but that was different.  Domeric had integrated Ramsay into _his_ life.  Ramsay had never attempted to do the same to someone else, even someone he intended to keep firmly under his control.

But he was finding he rather liked it. 

Theon huddled close to him, trying to catch some of the warm water on his body. Ramsay reached around him for the bar of soap and ran it over himself first, then, with more attention, scrubbed Theon down as well. 

Theon let Ramsay do as he liked, until Ramsay rubbed some suds over his ass to scrub away the mess of come and lube.  Then Theon flinched away, clearly sensitive down there, and little wonder, the way Ramsay had torn into him.

"Hey." Ramsay scolded lightly, tapping Theon's ass with his fingertips, "Hold still."

Theon nodded and returned to his former position, tucked against Ramsay's chest, his arms pressed up between them, while Ramsay finished cleaning him.

He washed their hair next, mostly focusing on Theon. His hair curled when it was wet and snagged on his fingers as he scrubbed. Theon winched a few times, but kept still until Ramsay finished rinsing him off.

"All right, you're done. Get out, grab a towel and wait for me."

He washed off and shut the water while Theon cocooned himself in the largest towel he could find and sat on the toilet.  He waited until Ramsay had taken care of himself and came when beckoned. 

Ramsay dried him off roughly, getting all over, between Theon's thighs and around his cock and balls before taking a clean wash cloth to his hair.  Theon fussed with it in the mirror after he was done, combing the strands with his fingers and getting his part just _so_.  This discordant display of vanity after everything that had just occurred amused Ramsay, so he let it happen.

“What now?” Theon asked as Ramsay led him back into the living room area.

Rummaging through his drawers, Ramsay found some clean clothes and tossed them at Theon.

“Get dressed.  You’re going home.”

“But my car—“ Ramsay cut him off with a look.

“I’ll drive you.  You think about things.  And I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“When will I se—“ Again Ramsay’s expression silenced him.  Theon refocused on dressing himself.  And behaving.

Roose was sequestered in his study or bedroom when they left the house again.  Ramsay hoped his bedroom; it increased the chances that Roose would have overheard Ramsay’s little tryst with Theon and Ramsay was nothing if not proud of his exploits.  Maybe he’d even made Roose _uncomfortable_.

The rain had lessened but was still falling.  Ramsay switched the heat on in the car and followed Theon’s directions back to his place.

Parting once they arrived involved some resistance.  Or maybe Theon was just too tired.  Whatever he was feeling, he didn’t move to get out of the car when Ramsay pulled over in front of the Greyjoy home.  Ramsay unbuckled Theon’s seatbelt for him and gave him a nudge. 

“Go on.”

Theon glanced at him, wide-eyed, needy, but ultimately opened the door.  Ramsay watched him walk up to the house and unlock the door before driving off.

He wasn’t worried about giving Theon some time on his own, to think through things.  In fact, he felt quite good about it.  It’d make it all the more significant when Theon next asked to see him.

Ramsay wasn’t interested in sharing, but he almost wished Roose—and even Domeric—could see him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1222222 (one of the cats typed that and I'm leaving it.)  
> They finally did the sex hooray!  
> Remember kids, as Roose Bolton always says, prevent bastards... use a condom.
> 
> Ummm yeah that's chapter six. I'm at NYCC this weekend and then away the following weekend, but I'll have chapter seven up as soon as I'm able! And, as always, your comments mean the world to me <3
> 
> Oh PS also as a special bonus my spouse @crookedneighbour and I are going to co-author an Abyss-verse one shot for you all. Some stuff has to happen in the main story for it to make sense, but we are currently working on it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon makes a decision, masturbates, and has a conversation with his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In spite of being out of town in PA for the weekend, I have finished chapter seven and it is here for your reading pleasure! Enjoy, and, as always, your comments/feedback, etc., give me life!

In retrospect, Theon had known.  He’d known the whole time, even before he’d heard the rumors, even before his conversation with Robb.  He’d known, or—to be generous— _heavily suspected_ , what he was getting into with Ramsay Bolton… that it wasn’t all going to be silly make-out sessions in alleyways and cars.

Robb had always teased Theon, called him a player and a heart-breaker, and Theon _had_ , on a few occasions, felt a tiny bit guilty about the way he’d treated his assortment of fuck buddies/dates/friends-with-benefits, etc.  But he’d never been _rough_ in the same way Ramsay was. 

The worst Theon had done was not call the next day or refuse to “define the relationship.” Ramsay had bodily slammed him into his car.

But he knew, somehow, that being with Ramsay would require two things: That he give up the same level of control that he’d enjoyed in all his previous sexual exploits and that he’d be prepared for things to get a little rough than he was used to (and exclusively on his end).

And he had found that he wanted it. He still did.

But he was confused, because Ramsay almost seemed to be encouraging him to reconsider. And he’d taken Theon home instead of letting him stay the night, even though he no longer seemed angry.

Theon watched through the living room curtains as Ramsay drove off.

Thankfully it was late enough that Theon could creep to his room undisturbed. He shut the door gently behind him. His body hurt and he was exhausted from the day’s events. At least Ramsay had made him shower. Theon laid on the bed, still in his borrowed clothes.

He wanted to text Ramsay, but maybe that was a bad idea.

Ramsay had said to think.

So Theon thought.

He’d been making good time, even with the weather, when his car had stalled and completely stopped. Trying the key repeatedly, hoping _this_ time it would start hadn’t worked, nor had braving the rain to lift the hood and stare at parts whose functions he had no understanding of. Eventually he’d accepted defeat and called for a tow. There was plenty of time; he barely even spared thought about Ramsay or their plans for later.  He was more concerned about getting dry and his car and _how much is this going to cost me?_

It was really only later, when it _was_ getting closer to when they’d agree to meet, that Theon fully came to appreciate that he had somewhere to be and that he’d have to deal with potentially disappointing Ramsay _again_.  He’d felt bad enough telling Ramsay he already had plans to visit Robb—especially after that blowjob.  (Thinking it had made him feel guilty, but he was almost ready to ditch Robb entirely if it meant Ramsay would make him come like that again.)

Even spent as he was, remembering Ramsay’s mouth on his cock still made Theon’s toes curl.

Anyway, he couldn’t bring himself to just pick up his phone and tell Ramsay what was happening.  It became almost like a superstition; if he just waited and didn’t call Ramsay, then the tow truck would come and everything would be fine and he could tell Ramsay what happened later when he was sure he wouldn’t be mad.

Theon kicked the covers down to the foot of the bed and got underneath, pulling the quilt up to his chin. 

It wasn’t as if Ramsay was asking him for anything new—Theon had been practically jumping to do as he said from day one.  Ramsay had awakened something in Theon he hadn’t even known was a part of him and he finally felt like maybe he could finally stop fruitlessly scrabbling for some shred of control over _something_ and just… maybe let somebody else take over for a while.

Fuck, he didn’t even have to be so fake-deep about it.  Ramsay made him _feel good_ and Theon wanted more.   

This was all Ramsay’s fault for _encouraging_ him to think things over.

All he had to do was accept that sometimes things might get a little rougher than he was used to and he could go on feeling just how he did when Ramsay deep-throated his cock or fucked hard into him the way he had tonight.

And fuck, hadn’t Asha always been up his ass in high school, wanting to know where he was and who he was with?  What was the difference, really?   

Theon curled up on his side.  He was just too exhausted, physically and mentally, to talk himself around in circles anymore tonight.  He still hadn’t even begun to consider how he would pay for the tow and repairs for his car, sure, he’d been working the last few weeks, but his car was _such a piece of junk_ he wouldn’t be surprised if it needed some pretty major repairs.

Surely things would feel a _little_ better, look a little brighter, after he’d slept.  And tomorrow he could text Ramsay again…

Theon drifted off over-thinking what he would say to Ramsay in the morning.

He woke up to Asha’s knock on his bedroom door.

“Theon!  Are you in there?”  Theon groaned loudly enough to communicate an affirmative, if indecipherable, answer to his sister’s question.

He hid his head under the pillow and groped blindly around the nightstand until he found his phone.  One eye opened, he peeked at the time… 9:39 am.  On a Sunday.

Typical Asha.

 “I made breakfast, saved you some eggs, if you want them.” She called.

“Could you leave a plate in the fridge?”  Fuck, his voice sounded rough.  Like he had chain-smoked a pack of cigarettes.

“Refrigerated eggs sound _gross._   Are you okay?  You sound like you’re coming down with something.” Asha said.

Theon cleared his throat.  “I dunno.  Maybe leave me a glass of orange juice?  I’ll come down for it later.”  

“You better.” Asha replied, “If you’re getting sick, you need to eat.”  Her footsteps moved back down the hall.

Theon sighed and threw back the covers.  He didn’t _really_ feel sick, but he didn’t feel like getting out of bed either and pretending would keep Asha from trying to get him up. 

His body did hurt… but Theon already knew why that was.

He forced himself up and walked, bow-legged, to the mirror.   He’d slept with damp hair after showering at Ramsay’s and it had dried into ringlets and cow-licks that no comb would smooth until he washed it again.  He was still wearing Ramsay’s clothes as well.

The bruises from Ramsay’s teeth ran from just under his right ear down to his collar bone. Theon pulled Ramsay’s shirt off. There were others, here and there across his shoulders. His neck hurt just from his effort to look himself over. And there were probably more marks elsewhere; he could feel twinges of pain in his hips and ass, where Ramsay had groped and squeezed him.

He wandered back to bed. He didn’t want to focus on the _other_ ache he was feeling… the sense of emptiness that dogged every step. Theon hadn’t known what it was like to feel that _full_ , like he was being split open and would either come or die as a result. It has been terrifying, at first, but somehow he’d found the pleasure beyond the pain.

Theon grabbed his phone from the nightstand. Opening a new message to Ramsay, he thought about what to say.

_Good morning_ seemed like a good start.

He paused. Remembered his back slamming into the car door, the rain pouring down Ramsay’s face as he shouted at him.

_I’m at home. Just woke up._

An ellipsis indicated that Ramsay was typing a reply.

_Good boy._ Just two words, but they sent a shiver down Theon’s spine.

Theon wavered over what to say next.  Finally, he settled on _when can I see you again?_

_When I say_ , was Ramsay’s response.

Theon huffed in exasperation.  He already had the stirrings of an erection after just _texting_ with Ramsay.  Absentmindedly, his fingertips prodded at the bruised area that curved around his hip.  Maybe there was some way he could convince Ramsay to see him sooner rather than later…

_What if I promise to suck your cock when I see you?_   He asked.

It took a few moments longer for Ramsay to reply.  Theon checked his phone every few seconds, worrying that maybe he took things too far.  Maybe he’d somehow misinterpreted Ramsay’s intentions…

His phone vibrated on his chest.

_What makes you think you’d be any good at it?_

That was uncomfortably true.  Just like he’d never been fucked before last night, Theon had never sucked anyone off before either.  And he knew from personal experience that a bad, or even mediocre, blowjob could make or break things…

_I’m not going to go any easier on your mouth than I did on your ass,_ Ramsay added while Theon worried.

_You can show me how you like it_ , he typed quickly.  _How you like having your cock sucked and… and other things._

Fuck, this was strange.  Theon was completely out of his element.  He’d never in his life gone so hard pursuing someone else, as much as Robb loved to teasingly call him a skirt-chaser.  The most he’d done was make out with a few guys to impress some girl.  And he’d only done _that_ because _he_ liked it too.  Obviously.

This was a sort of desperation was that all new.  His mind burned trying to come up with different ways to impress Ramsay.  Or at least give him a boner.

Theon’s phone buzzed again.

_You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you?_

He fired off a response without thinking about it this time.

_For you, yeah._

Theon slipped his hand down the front of Ramsay’s sweats to palm his cock.  Ramsay’s next text was eerily accurate…

_I bet you’re already hard._

Theon moaned and nodded as he stroked himself fully, before foolishly realizing that Ramsay couldn’t see him.

_Yeah… really hard.  That’s why I need to SEE you_.

_Ah, ah, ah,_ Ramsay scolded in response, _touch yourself and tell me what you want me to do to you._

Theon didn’t have to be told twice.  He pumped his cock in earnest while maneuvering his phone into his off-hand so he could still type.

_I want…_ It was hard to concentrate.  And there was _so much_ he wanted.  Theon tried to settle on something that’d already come up.

_I want to suck you.  I’ll swallow for you, I don’t care.  You gave me the best blowjob of my life the other night, I want to return the favor.  Please?_

Suddenly he felt very awkward at sexting.  This had always seemed so _easy_ before Ramsay.

That had to be good enough.  He pushed send.

_Hmm.  If I let you, you’re going to have to get better at begging, for a start.  Try again, and don’t you DARE come before I say._

Theon kept a firm grip on his cock, but eased off his speed to ensure he could comply with Ramsay’s order.  He distracted himself by framing a reply.

_Please let me suck your cock.  I… I want to choke on it.  I’ve been thinking about it every day for weeks, please just fuck my face, Ramsay.  Please, I’ll do anything._

That didn’t seem to be much of an improvement, but he sent the text off anyway.

_Better_ , was all he got in reply.  Theon groaned in frustration, both at Ramsay’s refusal to feed his arousal and his own desire to bring himself to orgasm.

_Ramsay PLEASE.  Please let me come now???_

He’d never done this before and he was love-hating it.  He was dimly aware that he could just come and Ramsay would never be the wiser, but somehow he didn’t fully believe that and, anyway, _he_ would know, and feel guilty…

_Film it and you can come.  I want to see your face too.  Show me how much you need it._

Theon hastened to comply, dropping his phone on the bed accidentally, grabbing it again and swiping open the camera app.   

He wasn’t sure quite how to start, so he focused on his cock first, just keeping it in frame while he continued jerking off.  Breathes escaped him in sudden, choking gasps.  Ramsay would probably enjoy the panting and moaning.  

As he felt himself getting closer, he switched the camera view around so he was now filming his face.  Keeping his eyes open proved too embarrassing; Theon closed them again before he lost his concentration and refocused on the mounting feeling of pleasure building low in his abdomen. 

“Fuck, ohhh, _fuck_... Ramsay, _please_ …”  Theon arched off the bed as his orgasm surged through him.

When it was over, he flopped back onto the mattress, belatedly remembering to stop the video and send the whole thing to Ramsay.  He closed his eyes and let himself relax, his breathing slowly returning to its normal rate, while he waited for Ramsay to answer.

In the afterglow of his orgasm, he nearly fell back to sleep, when the vibrating of his phone pulled him back from the cusp of napping.

_Mmmm… that’s my good boy._

Theon felt like he could already get hard again, just as long as Ramsay kept on calling him that.

_Are you going to behave for the rest of the weekend?_

Theon texted back affirmatively.

_Good.  Maybe I’ll have a surprise for you then._

Even having no idea what kind of “surprise” Ramsay had in mind, that last text made Theon smile in spite of himself.  He even felt a bit foolish, with how anxious he’d been last night, how he’d agonized over continuing this relationship with Ramsay.

All Ramsay seemed to expect from him was that he returned a few text messages, let Ramsay know where he was periodically, and let Ramsay fuck him whenever he wanted.  All of which Theon was more than happy to do.  Sure, it might seem a _little_ controlling, but it wasn’t like Theon also didn’t find it _highly_ arousing…

His doubts were ridiculous; he was just a little out of his element was all.  But maybe that was for the best… He was certainly more satisfied right now than he’d felt with anyone he’d been with before.

He texted Ramsay back.

_Just let me see you and I’ll be happy_.

_Patience…_ was all he received in reply.

Theon tried.  He spent the rest of the morning “sick” in bed, fighting off his “cold.”  Except for checking up on him a few times, Asha mostly left him alone; she had some marathon coming up and didn’t want to catch whatever he had.

Robb was more demanding of Theon’s attention, in spite of being several hours away.  He evidently had spent Saturday night with his _new girlfriend_ , Jeyne, according to the texts that lit up Theon’s phone.  Apparently, since Theon had cut his visit with Robb short, the two had talked instead and—more significantly—Robb, whose excessive determination to preserve his honor had always boarded on prudishness to Theon, was no longer a virgin.

Theon replied with a few sarcastic, but congratulatory, texts, but couldn’t bring himself to tell Robb that he too had lost his last remaining vestige of virginity last night as well.  Not that Robb wouldn’t be appropriately enthusiastic for his best friend, but Theon was unsure he’d be able to trust he was being genuine.  If he had been with anyone other than Ramsay Bolton...

“You’re smiling.” Asha interjected.  It was finally Sunday evening and they were both seated at the kitchen table, now that Theon was “feeling better.”  Theon had resorted to attempting to do the homework he’d been ignoring in an effort to that his mind off Ramsay _still_ not wanting to see him.

He’d really thought he would have relented by now.  It hadn’t even been a day, but they hadn’t spent much time apart since the whole whirlwind…. _romance? relationship?_... had began.  Yet Ramsay seemed intent on driving Theon crazy with waiting…

“Theon!” Asha clapped her hands too to get his attention this time. 

“What?  I’m trying to _work_.”

“You are not.” His sister countered, “You keep staring off into space with this little grin on your face.”

“I do not.” Theon retorted, “Anyway, everyone always says I smile at weird times.  And what could be weirder than doing it while trying to figure out this crap?”  He gestured contemptuously to his textbook.

“It’s not that.” Asha tried to explain, “It’s… it’s a _different_ smile.  You’re not _smirking_.  You’re…” She threw up her hands in defeat.  “I can’t figure it out.  What’s got you so… _cheerful_?”

 “Nothing.” Was his knee-jerk response.  But of course his sister knew him better than that.

Asha fixed him with a hard stare.  “Come on, Theon.  I know you’re not in high school anymore, but you’re still my little brother.  I’d just like to know.  I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Theon hesitated.  Telling Robb hadn’t gone _exactly_ how he’d wanted it to but…

“Well, I can’t _force_ you to tell…” Asha began, but Theon had already accepted defeat.  It had been a while since he’d had a _conversation_ —let alone an honest one—with his sister and he felt he owed her one, since Asha had been letting him do his own thing since Theon had started school and found employment.

“I met someone.  I mean, I’m _dating_ someone.”

“Like… _actually, formally_ dating?” Asha asked disbelievingly.

“Yeah.” Theon clarified, “Like, we sort of… confirmed it last night.”

It was almost the truth; Ramsay had used the word _together_ in reference to the two of them, even if just how much confirmation that actually was remained to be seen.

“Is _that_ why your car wasn’t here this morning?”

 “Yeah, yeah.  I’m gonna pick it up sometime later.”

He didn’t feel like getting into his car right now _too_ , but Asha changed the subject.

“What’s her name?” Asha asked.  Theon cringed internally.  He’d forgotten about that little issue.  Most people he was close to—meaning Robb—knew about Theon’s indifference to the gender of his partners, but he’d never mentioned it to Asha.  In part because they never discussed his dating life _that_ deeply, but also because Theon wanted to be sure that no knowledge of his last son’s sexual preferences would ever get back to Balon Greyjoy.  He had to take the plunge now though…

“Not—ah—not a _she_.” He explained awkwardly.  “It’s—ah—his name is Ramsay.  Bolton.  I don’t think you know each other…”

“Bolton?  Aren’t you _working_ for Roose Bolton?”

Theon released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, grateful to Asha for choosing to focus on anything other than her little brother being in a relationship with a guy.

“Yeah, but it’s fine… Or I guess, it seems fine?  I’ve been over there for dinner and he didn’t say anything about it.”

“I’ve never met Ramsay before.  I don’t know anything about him.” 

Theon silently gave thanks that the Greyjoys and the Boltons didn’t run in the same social circles and that Asha was too wrapped up in their family and her own shit to be aware of any of the rumors about Ramsay.  He was also grateful he’d had the foresight to make sure the bruises from Ramsay were covered before leaving his room.

“What’s he like?”

He had to think for a moment.  Finally, Theon settled on…

“He’s… intense.  He’s at my school right now, but he’s almost finished.  His brother—Domeric—died too, it seems like things were a bit complicated between them.  Same with Ramsay and Roose.  So Ramsay can come off a bit… strange.  That’s sort of how our… thing… started.  We met while I was at work and he was intriguing, but intimidating and well… it went from there.”

Asha nodded along while he spoke.  When he finished, it seemed like she was about to say something, but changed her mind.  After a brief pause to reconsider, she finally said, “I’m happy for you, Theon.  Really.  And I’m not going to interrogate you.  Just promise you won’t get too wrapped up in a relationship… I know you said you’re feeling better, but you’re looking a bit drawn.  And you still have school to think about.”  She looked pointedly at Theon’s books, lying forgotten on the table.

“Yeah, I know, Asha.”

His sister stood up and grinned at him.  “You’re all right, little brother.  I’m gonna go for a run before it gets too late.”

“All right.”

Asha turned to go.

“Hey, Asha?”  Theon’s voice stopped her.  “Don’t… don’t tell Balon, all right?  About Ramsay?  And me?”  Fuck, he sounded pathetic.  Like a little kid scared of getting in trouble.

That didn’t stop from the relief from flooding his body when Asha responded, “Of course not.  You’re an adult now and who you date is your own business; Dad doesn’t need to know everything.  I’ve always got your back, Theon.”

Hearing those words, out loud, from the person who had more to do with his upbringing than either parent, made Theon feel absurdly like crying.

“Thanks, Asha.  You’re the best.”  His voice, thankfully, didn’t sound as choked up as he felt.

“You too, little brother.”  Asha turned and went out.

That was about as close as they ever got to saying “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter eight coming soon! Thanks for sticking with me!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay reflects on his progress with Theon; Ramsay and Roose have a conversation about the future; Ramsay and Theon get down and dirty again; Ramsay shares some details about his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, another chapter. Again, thanks for reading, commenting, etc.!! Enjoy <3

Ramsay had had what he considered to be a _very_ successful weekend.

He woke up early on Sunday morning, too amped up excited to sleep. There was already a text from Alyn on his phone, waiting to be read; he had already taken a look at Theon’s car. The problem was repaired and Ramsay was free to bring Theon by to pick it up whenever.

It was _so_ nice to have people who listened…

A message from Theon arrived shortly after he told Alyn to wait for his message about when they’d be by to retrieve the vehicle. He even informed Ramsay of his whereabouts, that he had just woken up and was at home.

Ramsay lingered in bed, savoring his triumph. He wasn’t even mad that Theon had taken his orders to “think things over” fairly loosely; it had been twelve hours since Ramsay had driven Theon home and he was already begging Ramsay to see him.

Truth be told, Ramsay had no intention of _just_ simply giving Theon clear-cut orders to follow. Theon had already demonstrated he was perfectly capable of adhering to Ramsay’s more straightforward demands. He had not, however, yet been trained to submit to Ramsay’s whims and accept punishment when Ramsay inevitably decided that Theon’s interpretation of intentionally vague instructions was incorrect.

Right now, though, Ramsay was in a fine mood, jubilant even, and he was content to merely warn Theon to be patient.

That turned into Theon begging to suck his cock.

_Such a little slut, needs someone to bring him to heel…_

Ramsay had more or less told Theon as much and was again pleasantly surprised when Theon readily accepted the label. Even _encouraged_ it.

_You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you?_ texted Ramsay.

_For you, yeah,_ he received in reply.

He pushed it one step further and made Theon film himself masturbating.  It was pretty hot; Ramsay definitely got hard watching Theon work himself.  He had a good sized cock (though nowhere near as thick as Ramsay’s own) and he was clearly adept at pleasuring himself.

Theon turned the camera towards his face, as per Ramsay’s instructions, before he came.  It was quite obviously that, until now, masturbating had always been a solitary, private activity.  In the video, Theon appeared awkward at first; the repetitive jerking of his hand on his cock stalled, became less practiced, but he gamely carried on and eventually recovered his rhythm. 

That discomfort was probably Ramsay’s favorite part of the video and their conversation, although he did rather enjoy making Theon beg Ramsay to fuck his face. 

He’d really like to choke Theon while making him jerk off.  Watch his face turn red, then purple, while ordering him not to come until told.  Ramsay thought about that while he re-watched the video and masturbated himself, after he had finished with Theon. 

Maybe he’d let Theon choke on his cock first, since he wanted it so bad…

Ramsay found his resolve weakening.  He _wanted_ to give Theon some space after the events of the day before.  Domeric had taught him that—that sometimes it was better to let the thing you wanted come to you.  _You plant the seeds and let them grow_ , his brother had said once.  Or something like that.

The point was, that to pull Theon in deeper, he had to give him a chance to get his head above water.  Allow him some momentary space to make it more meaningful when Theon requested less distance.  Then he’d feel like he’d _asked_ , by proxy, for whatever Ramsay gave him.  That he _wanted_ it.  And in time, he would.

Fuck, that would be sweet. 

Except that would take time, and Ramsay wanted to get his hands back on Theon’s hot little body as soon as possible.

He settled for plotting out their next encounter.

He'd told Theon that there would be a surprise for him the next time they saw each other, but Ramsay hadn't been sure if he meant his cock or Theon's once again operational car. Now he was more firmly settled on returning Theon his car, _then_ taking him home and doing whatever he felt like doing to him.

But first he'd let him stew in his own juices. Tomorrow was Monday; Ramsay could meet Theon at Roose's office after work and take him over to pick up his car.

He hoped Theon found the wait _agonizing_.  Ramsay certainly did, even if he was deliberately setting a slow pace. He didn't understand how people--his father, Domeric--seemed to enjoy this part more than the actual successful conquest.  For Ramsay, waiting for the moment to ripen had always had limited appeal.  He wanted Theon under his thumb and submitting to him _now_.

But Ramsay _was_ a Bolton and, according to his father, _“Boltons have their own way of doing things.”_

He still texted Theon first thing on Monday morning, his phone out under the desk while he sat in a history lecture.  The class had been interested for all of five minutes—they’d talked about medieval torture devices, the Inquisition, stuff like that—but the professor had since moved on and, today especially, Ramsay couldn’t even pretend to pay attention.

One handed, he typed, _Where are you right now?_ And hit send.

There was a response from Theon in seconds.  He’d been very good at about that, responding to Ramsay with little delay, keeping him updated when he might be away from his phone because he was showering or going to bed.  Would he keep it up, though, was the question.  It was all well and good that he was willing now, while Ramsay’s anger was fresh on his mind, but Ramsay didn’t want Theon to so much as _blink_ without getting his express permission.

_Waiting for the fucking bus so I can go to work.  Since, you know, I don’t have a car._   Theon had replied, the text heavily sardonic.  Tsk, tsk.  That attitude wouldn’t do.

_And whose fault is that?_  He asked.  Even though it was no one’s fault, except maybe Theon’s father, for being such a hardass that he wouldn’t even give his kid a functional mode of transportation.

Theon was typing again, but Ramsay keyed in another message and beat him to it.

_Doesn’t matter.  I’ll meet you after work.  You be good and you can have that surprise I promised you._

He didn’t need to read Theon’s response, just wait until about three when he could finally head over to his father’s office.

Theon was behind the desk when Ramsay let himself in, but jumped up immediately and hurried over, as if it’d been weeks since they’d last seen each other, instead of not even forty-eight hours.  He stopped just shy of pressing himself against Ramsay’s chest.

Ramsay grinned.  “Aww, did you miss me?”

“Uh, yeah, a bit.” Theon backtracked, running a hand through his hair and trying not to look at him.

“Good.”  Ramsay tilted Theon’s chin so he was looking up at him.  He’d never really noticed before; Theon was quite a bit shorter.  He found it erotic.

Ramsay leaned down to close the distance between their lips when a door opened and shut behind him.

“Ramsay.” 

His father’s voice.  Theon jumped back like he’d been scalded.  Ramsay put a hand on his arm, held him tight.  Theon, and Roose for that matter, was going to have to get used to this. 

“What?” Ramsay asked.  There was no need for pleasantries.  Roose had a point and the sooner he made it, the sooner they could get out of here.

“I’d like to speak with you.” 

When Ramsay didn’t move—“In my office.  Alone.”

“This better be quick.  We’ve got somewhere to be.” Ramsay said, mostly for Theon’s benefit.  He knew Roose didn’t give a fuck about his plans, but Theon needed to know who was in charge.  That Ramsay had the ultimate say on what happened to him.

“ _Yes_?” Ramsay asked testily, closing the door behind him. 

It had been a while, but his father’s office looked the same as it had the last time Ramsay had been in here.  Books lined the walls; Ramsay wouldn’t be surprised if Roose had read every one. 

Roose didn’t say anything, so Ramsay sat down heavily in one of the two chairs that faced Roose’s desk.  The leather upholstery squeaked as he made himself comfortable; clearly his father wasn’t in any rush.  Roose came over to stand, with the desk separating them, and stare out the window, hands folded behind his back.

This was strange.  Ramsay was glad his father wasn’t looking at him.  Roose Bolton wasn’t a light-hearted man by any means, but his stance bespoke a certain gravity to whatever he wanted to speak to Ramsay about.

“Did someone _die_?” He asked finally.

“Of course not.” Roose replied, turning to face him, studying him.

“You are my son.”

“Yeah and aren’t we all sorry about tha—“

Roose cut him off.  “You are my son.  And these are delicate times.”

“Okay…”  Ramsay couldn’t see where his father was going with this.

“Tywin Lannister has hinted that he would be willing to enter certain… negotiations… with me, which have the potential to radically disrupt the power structure in this town.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Ramsay asked.  He didn’t give a shit about Roose’s business dealings, and his father had his fingers in so many pies it wasn’t even worth trying to keep track.

“If all goes according to plan, our family will once again enjoy a level of influence comparable to that of the Starks at present, something we have lacked since before my grandfather’s time.  In your brother’s… absence… you are my sole heir—and all this will one day be yours.  _If_ you prove yourself worthy of it.”

Ramsay had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.  Of _course_ his position wasn’t just assumed, he had to _prove_ himself.  Roose could call him his heir until he was blue in the face, it didn’t mean shit.  Not the way it had for Domeric.

But he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I _am_.  Worthy.”

Roose gave a noncommittal shrug.  “Perhaps I’ve been a bit hasty.  Since your brother’s passing, you’ve been lacking an outlet.  As such, I’m willing to reconsider my position on your relationship with the Greyjoy boy, _if_ you can continue to ensure his silence.”

  
“Of course I can.” Ramsay scoffed, “And you _promised_ that if I finished school you’d give me more responsibility, let me work with you _directly_ …”

Roose continued as if he hadn’t spoken.  “You’ve been relatively more… tractable… these last few weeks.  Dare I say the boy has been almost a _good influence_.  By all means, keep him.  It allows me to focus on things other than covering up for your… indiscretions… around town.  If he remains your sole focus, so much the better for everyone.”

Anger churned inside him, threatening to boil over.  When would Roose learn that he didn’t need Ramsay didn’t need his _approval_ or _permission_?  It didn’t matter that now their interests seemed to have aligned, if Roose didn’t start showing him some _proper_ respect…

“Keep him quiet.  Keep your head down.  And I’ll reconsider your position.”

His phone vibrated against his thigh.  It was probably Alyn, wondering where they were.

Fuck it. 

“You may go.”  Roose dismissed him, even as Ramsay stood up on his own to go, refocusing his attention towards some papers scattered across his desk.  He made his way towards the door when Roose spoke once more, without deigning to look up.

“And Ramsay, I’ll expect you at the Harvest Day Ball this year.”

“That shit’s _weeks_ away!” Ramsay protested.

“Then you’ll be able to plan your schedule accordingly.”  Roose waved him out.

Ramsay went.  Theon was waiting for him, slumped in one of the waiting room chairs, playing on his phone.  Ramsay was surprised by how much he calmed at the sight of him.  It was something about the way Theon was starting to look at him… still full of desire, but something else too.  Like he was lost at sea and Ramsay was his first sight of land.

“Come on.  We’re getting out of here.”

Theon followed eagerly, badgering him with questions on the way to the car.  “Do I get my surprise now?  What did Roose want to talk to you about?  Where are we going?”

Ramsay backed him up against the door and kissed him just to shut him up.  “Get in the car and you’ll see.” He said, giving Theon a little tap on the ass to hurry him along.

Maybe he’d been more than just excited to get his cock inside him again… maybe he had genuinely _missed_ Theon over the last day and a half.  It was probably the longest they’d yet gone without seeing each other since they met.  Whatever the case, Ramsay took Theon’s hand as he drove, used his thumb to stroke his palm gently, and told him everything Roose had said.

“When I turned eighteen, it was right before Domeric died, he brings me these papers.  Tells me he’s giving me his name, I won’t have to use my mother’s anymore, I’m a Bolton now too.  He says it like he _knew_ how much I wanted it, like it was important.  Like it _meant_ something.  And now this.  I’m his _only_ son now but I still have to _prove_ myself to him.  He promised if I got my Associate’s he’d let me work for him, like, _officially_.  His promises don’t mean shit.”

“Maybe he just wants to, like, make sure you’re taking it seriously?” Theon offered, “I dunno, but you’re right, it’s not really fair.”

“Fuck no it’s not.” Ramsay replied, lifting Theon’s hand to his mouth and kissing over the knuckles, “He seems to like you now though.  Said you’re a _good influence_ on me.”  He chuckled.

“Really?” Theon asked, mystified, “I don’t… I mean, I don’t think anyone can tell you what to do, or like, influence you or anything.”

Ramsay felt strangely gratified.  At least _someone_ understood things.

“You’re right.” He said, dropping Theon’s hand momentarily so he could pull into the dirt lot in front of Alyn’s father’s body shop.  “We’re here.” He announced unnecessarily.

Alyn had heard them pull up and met them out front, wiping his greasy hands on a towel so dirty it was a wonder that the action had any effect at all.

“’S right over here.” He said by way of greeting.

“C’mon.”  Ramsay beckoned Theon to follow.  His car was waiting out behind the garage.

“Everything in working order.” Alyn declared, “You got the keys?  You can go on, give it a try.”

Theon balked, looked at Ramsay hesitantly.  He liked that; he liked that a lot.  It made his cock twitch. 

“Go ahead.” He nodded towards the car.

While Theon started up the car, he conferred with Alyn.

“All right, how much do I owe you?”  Ramsay took out his wallet.  He’d visited the ATM earlier and taken out a wad of cash.  Glancing up to make sure Theon was watching, he counted out the correct amount and handed it off.

“There’s a little extra in there for you.  Drop the car off at his place, I’ll text you the address.”

“Why can’t he drive it himself?” Alyn protested.

“Because, you stupid fuck, I want to get him back to my place quick as possible so I can get my cock sucked, is that enough of an explanation for you?” 

“All right, all right.” His so-called friend said in surrender, “Whatever you want.”

“You’re fucking right.”  _Jackass_.

“Theon!” Ramsay called.  Theon was still sitting in the car, looking vaguely awed.  “Time to go!”

“But what about—“ Theon started, walking over.

“Alyn’s gonna bring your car back to your place, isn’t that nice?  You’re coming home with me.”

Theon handed over his keys, then put his hands in his pockets and nodded.  “Yeah, okay.”

Ramsay threw an arm around his shoulders.  “Thanks a bunch.” He told Alyn sarcastically as they strolled back to his car, “Next time don’t be such a whiney bitch about it.”

“Yeah, see you, Ramsay…” But Ramsay had already slammed the door.

Theon was silent as they drove away.  Ramsay took his hand again, giving it a little squeeze.  “Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Don’t I like… owe you money now?”

Ramsay had to stop himself from laughing.  He moved his hand to Theon’s thigh instead.

“You owe me a blowjob.”

It was fascinating to watch Theon flush; it clearly didn't happen very often, which only enhanced his apparent embarrassment. He had no shame when he was on top, but reverse the roles and Theon’s ears turned red and the blotches of color traveled to his cheeks. Ramsay felt himself increase pressure on the gas petal. If they didn't get home soon, he was going to pull over and fuck Theon's mouth right there in the car...

"Won't your dad be mad though?"

"Shh," Ramsay cooed. He rubbed his palm up and down Theon's thigh, edging closer to his zipper each time. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that."

That did it. Theon's blush deepened and he squirmed as his pants grew uncomfortably tight.

He whined. "Ramsay..."

"Almost there, sweetheart."

He sounded much more nonchalant than he felt. Theon wasn't the only one hard and aching. But Ramsay couldn't have him getting any ideas, like that Ramsay needed Theon as much as Theon needed him.

Pulling Theon upstairs once they reached the Bolton residence, Ramsay felt light-headed, desperate to be inside Theon as soon as possible.  

"Clothes off." He panted, "Get on your knees by the bed." Ramsay pointed to where he wanted him.

Theon went, shedding items of clothing as he did so.  Ramsay took in the sight of him from behind.  Theon didn't have much ass to speak of, but that was all right.  Ramsay liked him a bit on the scrawny side... he could do with being even be thinner, truth be told.  It'd make him easier to bruise, make him feel insignificant next to Ramsay.

His back and shoulders were a bit more muscled, probably from all that sailing he seemed to like to do.  But he'd mostly lost that ugly summer tan.  His hair was messy in the back... with how much Theon seemed to care about that part of his appearance, he did a fairly dismal job of maintaining it... it was almost sweet...

Ramsay shook his head in annoyance.  He didn't find anything Theon did _that_ endearing.  That way lay madness.

Naked and kneeling, his erection jutting up from between his legs, Theon hesitated, hands poised about to undo Ramsay's belt.  

"Problem?" Ramsay asked, an eyebrow raised, "You seemed _so_ eager..."

Theon caught the edge in his voice. 

"I want to, it's just... I've never..."

Ramsay pulled his cock out of his pants, already hard, needing to feel Theon's mouth on him.

"Don't care about that."  He gave himself a few strokes, groaning the words.  "It's better you don't know what you're doing.  Don't have to break you of any bad habits."

Theon inched closer on his knees, his own need overcoming his apprehension.  Ramsay tangled his fingers in that mess of hair, guided him closer.  "Go on, I'll tell you what I like."

In the end, it was more about _showing_.  Theon started off well enough, bobbing up and down while Ramsay's cock slid between his lips.  He kept trying to go faster, take Ramsay deeper, both showing off and trying to appease his own enthusiasm, before he got tired and was forced to slow down again.

That part was entertaining.  For a bit.  Then Ramsay grew bored with the relentless repetition.  He took Theon by the hair again, pulled him off until he could just barely mouth at Ramsay’s tip.  Wide brown eyes gazed up at him as he wrapped his hand around his shaft.  He rolled his hips.  Theon responded correctly, suckled him, his tongue warm and wet around the underside of Ramsay’s cock. 

“More?” Ramsay asked after a few minutes.  Downcast eyes flicked up to meet his again; Theon nodded and mewled around the tip of him.  He slackened his grip on Theon’s hair, allowed him to slip his mouth further down his length, then held him caught again.  “Relax now.  I want to fuck your face.  And you better watch your teeth, or I’ll knock them out.”

Theon nodded as much as he was able.  “Touch yourself.” Ramsay demanded, “Show me how much you want it.”

Hand shaking, he did as he was told, as Ramsay bucked his hips, faster, harder, until Theon was nearly limp in his grasp, letting himself be controlled by Ramsay’s hand in his hair, choking, gagging, but still stroking, stroking, stroking his own cock. 

Ramsay finally released Theon as he came, only long enough to move his hand from Theon’s hair to his throat so he could squeeze not _quite_ as hard as he could, but very close to not holding back as he came and came and came down his throat.  Theon followed, spilling into his hand seconds later.

He dragged Theon to him, onto the bed, after, both of them breathing heavily. 

Theon coughed.  “Whoa.” He managed, voice raw.  “That was… was it good for you too?”

Ramsay didn’t have an answer, so he just rolled Theon onto his back and kissed him, hard. 

His orgasm had been good.  Choking Theon _during_ his orgasm had been better.  And yet…

Ramsay fingered the bruises where he’d bitten Theon while fucking him the other night.  Some had faded to sickly shades of yellow and green, but others still remained a dark purple, with pinpricks of trapped blood beneath the skin.

He wanted to _cover_ Theon in his marks… He wanted…

“Did you think about me?  About us?” He asked, seeking a distraction.  He already knew the answer.

“Uh, yeah, you know I did.  You said to so…”

That brought a smile to his lips.  Ramsay ran a finger lightly around Theon’s nipple until the flesh puckered and grew taut. 

“You like doing what I say?”  He brought his face down, teased with his tongue.  Theon arched his back and whined.

“Ohh—yeah—“

“Be good; let me play.”  Ramsay bit down until Theon’s moans turned to cries turned to little yelps of pains before he finally relented.

He sat up, straddled across Theon’s lap, studied him.  His face was still flushed and he was breathing heavy, but he looked up at Ramsay as if there was nobody else in the world.

They ended up bent over the bed, Ramsay three fingers deep inside Theon as he squirmed and cried and begged to come. 

“You’re mine, you’re all mine, and I can do whatever I want.” Ramsay snarled into his ear as he moved and caressed _just_ the right spot to make Theon wail and his body contract around Ramsay’s fingers. 

“Yes, yes,” Theon gasped, which turned into “ _Please, oh please_ …” as Ramsay twisted his fingers again.

“Come for me then.”

Theon shuddered, spilling over his belly as Ramsay raked the nails of his free hand down his side, raising bright red lines.  He accented the gesture with a few hard smacks to Theon's ass, just for good measure, while Theon twitched, orgasm subsiding.  He finally slumped, spent, to the floor.  Vaulting over him, Ramsay flopped back onto the pillows and sighed, hands folded behind his head.  

Theon shakily crawled up to join him.  It struck Ramsay, as Theon curled against his side, that he was becoming absurdly fond of him.  It was refreshing, to have someone who was just _his_.

As much as he _hated_ to agree with his father... 

Theon slipped his hand down the front of Ramsay’s boxer shorts.  “You’re not hard…” His voice was so full of innocent wonder it was its own sort of lewd; a testament to how aroused he had been, just from sucking Ramsay’s cock and taking a few fingers.

Ramsay shrugged.  “Do you know why my father thinks you’re such a good influence on me?”

Theon’s brow furrowed.  Silly thing.  He had no idea how the two things were related.

“Because you keep me _focused_.  Because if I’m fucking you in _here_ , I’m not fucking with _other_ people out _there_.  And,” He chuckled, “Believe it or not, _some people_ don’t _like_ the same things I _like_.”

He watched as Theon struggled to keep his expression neutral as he said, “I’ve heard… a few things, just around.  And Robb said—well, he tried to warn me to… to be careful around you.”

“But you’re still here.”  Ramsay leaned over, lowered his face to Theon’s and ran his tongue across his jaw to just below his ear.  “Why is that?  Could it be because you _want_ me to make you my little bitch?” He hissed before biting down, not holding anything back.

“Maybe— _ohhh_ —I—I—“ Ramsay released him so Theon could finish his statement.  “I like when you tell me I’m good… I like being good for you.” 

As if it mattered what _Theon_ liked.  But Ramsay grinned down at him anyway.

“I knew you would.  From when I first saw you.”

He laid back down and let Theon re-situate himself tucked against his side again. 

“Domeric…” He sighed, lost in memories.

“We were a lot alike, my _big brother_ and I.  Not that Roose would ever admit it; Domeric had more _self-control_ and _discretion_ and that counts for a lot in this family.  Not to mention he liked them a bit younger.  I’m not so discerning.  It was nice that _you_ were a ripe little virgin though.”

He laughed nastily.

“We’d share them.  Boys Domeric would find in the city, on the Internet usually, dating apps or whatever.  He’d arrange the whole thing, get us a hotel room… and then pay them to keep their mouths shut afterwards.”

Ramsay glanced down at Theon, who was watching him, wide-eyed, as he listened attentively.

“That last bit—the money—was my fault.  I may have… taken things a bit _too far_ at times.  Don’t get me wrong, Domeric wanted obedience too, but he wanted it with affection, all kisses and whispered devotions.”

He paused.  Then pounced.  Pinning Theon by the wrists, his back pressed flat on the bed, Ramsay loomed over him until their noses almost touched.

“I want your obedience, and I want it _ugly_.  I want your tears, your screams.  I want you to _hurt_ for me.”

He kissed Theon then, put more force in it than he ever had before.  Scrapped his teeth over his tongue  and bit his lips until he felt the warm rush of blood into his own mouth.  Only when tears had welled in the corners of Theon’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks did Ramsay finish making his point.

“Once I have that… _then_ I’ll take your kisses, all your sweet nothings… and you’ll thank me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in case anyone was wondering, this fic is going to definitely have a sequel. It's also going to have multi (probably) side-fics. ALSO if you wanted to write a side-fic thing that's rad and you should do that and also I will be setting up a collection on here for them all! ~be the content you wanna see~ Anyway no one cares about that so just know that chapter 9 is coming soon! And thanks again for your support!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life with Ramsay continues; Theon learns how to ride a dick and finally meets Ramsay's friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I'm sorry this chapter took for-fucking-ever for me to post!! Anyway, enjoy!

He wasn’t sure what Ramsay had done to him, but even after the confirmation that the rumors and the things Robb had told him about were true, Theon _still_ couldn’t get enough.  It wasn’t _just_ the mind-blowing orgasms; Theon had spent enough time building up a network of booty calls to know he could get his rocks off pretty much whenever he felt like it.  There was something _else_ about being with Ramsay Bolton. 

He didn’t have to _think_ about things the way he used to—Ramsay had money, they always had a place to fuck, no one ever looked for him for ideas about what to do next—a _nd_ he was nigh untouchable around town—a perk of having a boyfriend with an unsavory reputation.  Not that anyone _tried_ to bother him, but it was nice to think that they _couldn’t_ , even if they wanted to.  Sometimes, when he was out alone (something that seemed to be happening more and more rarely), Theon liked to pretend he existed in sort of a protective bubble, which was the next best thing, if you couldn’t be a badass yourself.

And after a childhood being pushed around by his older brothers, never being anything more than Robb's sidekick, Theon was well-aware that he didn’t _exactly_ fit the badass role.

Occasionally he did chafe from the leash of Ramsay’s demands, but that was probably just to be expected.  Even though he’d spent years growing up being nagged by Asha and Balon, one well-meaning, the other threatening, he _never_ got the payoff he did with Ramsay.  Like when Ramsay made him come so hard he couldn’t walk after, or when _he_ got Ramsay so hard they’d barely make it upstairs before Ramsay tore his clothes off, _or especially_ when Ramsay looked at him in a bemused sort of way, like he couldn’t quite believe Theon was real or that they were sharing the same space and time together.

Theon couldn’t quite believe it either.

He never did find out how Roose felt about Ramsay footing the bill for the repairs to Theon’s car.  For a while, whenever he encountered Roose, whether at work or at Ramsay’s (unless they were out of the house, they continued to eat whatever Roose had prepared, much to Theon’s bemusement, considering Ramsay couldn’t stand to be around his father), he was petrified that Roose would bring up what Ramsay had done.

But he’d never mentioned it.

Roose didn’t mention a lot of things. 

Like the bruises Theon tried and failed to hide under his shirts and the matching dark circles under his eyes and how sometimes he’d nod off during the day because Ramsay had kept him up too late the night before.

Sometimes, when Theon woke before Ramsay, aching too much to go back to sleep, he'd wander downstairs and join Roose as he made breakfast.  Roose would usually save Theon a small plate of whatever he was having or leave him an extra piece of toast or English muffin, but they never exchanged more than pleasantries.  And they never talked about Ramsay.

Theon would just sit at the small kitchen table (the proper dining room was for dinner) and watch Roose cook, his bare feet curled up under him to keep them off the cold tile. 

Much like how he did everything else, Roose prepared each meal methodically.  Everything was always cooked to perfection. Nothing was ever burned or even came close to burning; Theon never saw Roose rush to pull a pan off a burner or out of the oven.  Every movement was deliberate. Yet Roose didn't seem _enjoy_ the process either.  It was just something he did well, because he did everything well and he didn’t tolerate half-assing.

Even all the dishes were done before Roose left the house, Theon trailing behind soon after on his own work days…

“You’re coming out with me tonight.” Ramsay said, not looking up from the notebook he was scribbling in.

“Uh huh, yeah, okay.” Theon murmured.  They were sitting at the same kitchen table where Theon spend his quite breakfasts with Roose, doing homework.  Or trying to. 

Theon tried to refocus on what he was supposed to be reading, but it was no use.  His grades were never going to recover from the abysmal way he’d performed on his midterms; what was even the point in studying now?

He was already fucked.  But Ramsay had insisted, claiming if he didn’t make a show of getting his work done, Roose would start leaning on him even more than was usual.

“Hey!”

Theon glanced up and Ramsay caught him across the face with a slap, nothing _too_ hard, but there was enough force behind it to sting a little.

“You watch your fucking tone.”

“’M sorry.” Theon mumbled, pressing his eyes into the heels of his hands.  His head was really starting to hurt and getting smacked around didn’t help.

“Go upstairs and take a nap.  I can’t stand you sulking and sighing.  It’s throwing off my concentration.”

Theon stood up.  Ramsay was right.  He _was_ cranky, and it wasn’t _Ramsay’s_ fault that he was all Theon had been able to think about for weeks— _Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay_ —to the detriment of his schoolwork.  Sure, Ramsay demanded a lot of his time, but Theon had been stuck on him since the day they met. 

He didn’t seem to be able to help it.

What had initially been a diversion—keeping him out of the house and away from Balon, distracting him from Robb’s absence—had very quickly filled up his whole life.

Theon stood up but didn’t turn to go.  Instead he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his pants.

“Would you maybe wanna… come with me?” He asked, trying not to meet Ramsay’s eyes.  He was no good at playing coy, completely lacked the subtlety, and Ramsay knew it.

Sure enough, the clouds of irritation left Ramsay’s face and he smiled permissively, slipping out of his chair.

“Fuckin’ slut.” He murmured contemptuously, the smirk on his face giving lie to his inflection.

“If you’re going to be mean, I guess you don’t get any of this…” Theon teased, wiggling his ass in what he hoped at least approximated a suggestive motion.

Ramsay was on him in a flash, Theon’s chest slamming uncomfortable hard against the wall.  His arms were wrenched behind his back and held tight as Ramsay pressed his lips to Theon’s ear.

“Oh yeah?” He hissed, “And what’s going to stop me from just _taking_ it?”

Theon twisted in his grasp until they were face to face.  Ramsay could have stopped him; he was strong enough to overpower Theon easily, but he let it happened.  Until, Theon leaned forward and licked Ramsay’s neck, from collarbone to just under his jawbone.  Ramsay’s breathe released through his teeth and this time it was the back of Theon’s head that collided with the wall, as Ramsay retaliated, biting hard into the base of his throat.

“ _Ohhh, fuck_.” Theon choked, “Nothing—nothing—oh please, you’re hurting—“

Ramsay kept at it until Theon’s knees buckled and the only thing holding him up was Ramsay’s body, pinning him against the wall.

“Get the fuck upstairs and be quick about it.”

Ramsay’s heavy footsteps followed as Theon tripped his way upstairs, legs unsteady. 

Once in the privacy of Ramsay’s apartment, they wasted no time stripping off their clothes.  Ramsay laid down on the bed and waited for Theon to finish, watching him, expectant, his cock hard and upright between his thighs.  Had it been anyone else, it might have looked a bit silly.

As it was, Theon was too wound up to laugh.

Ramsay gestured to him one-handed.  “You’re gonna ride me.  And you’re not touching yourself either.  If you don’t come from just having my cock in you, you don’t come at all.”

Theon considered, for a half a second, telling Ramsay that he’d never done that before—at least not with himself being on top.  But they’d been at this long enough that he knew that’d earn him no sympathy nor reprieve and besides—he wanted, _needed_ to get off.  He could make it work.

He got himself into position, his legs spread wide, on either side of Ramsay’s hips, and slowly lowered himself down, as he spit into his hand and reached behind his back to stroke Ramsay’s cock while he pressed down further.  Finally, he felt the familiar pinching, then burning sensation—a consequence of neglecting proper lubrication—as Ramsay entered him. 

Theon rocked back slowly, then raised himself up on his knees and back down again…

“What do you think this is, our fucking wedding night?”  Ramsay delivered a stinging smack to his ass this time.

“S-sorry.”

This was a lot more difficult than past experience had made it seem; it looked so straightforward when you were watching from your back.  Theon had to concentrate hard on just moving his legs and hips smoothly in fluid motion.  He kept getting preoccupied, worrying that he looked stupid, and he had no idea what do with his hands.

“What did I _just_ say?”  Ramsay gripped Theon’s hips fully and guided him roughly up and down on his cock.  It took a minute, but Theon was finally able to concentrate on how _good_ it felt.  Somehow he angled just right that Ramsay thrusting up inside him it set off a wave of pleasure that took Theon by surprise with it’s intensity.

Ramsay gave him another punishing slap to the ass.  “If I wanted to do all the work, I’d bend you over and fuck you myself.” But Theon had gotten it now.  He wanted to keep on feeling this way, well, forever.  Or at least until he came.

He picked up his rhythm, trying to come down hard onto Ramsay’s cock each time, trying to get the stimulate he needed to spill.  All his worries about looking awkward were forgotten to his relentless pursuit of pleasure.

“That’s it boy.” Ramsay encouraged him, “Take me deep, baby.  I wanna give you my come.  C’mon.  If you don’t finish before I do you don’t get to.”

There was no need to tell him twice.  Theon again tried to go faster, knowing they both needed it.  The whole world shrunk to the size of Ramsay’s room, just the two of them and Theon’s desperate struggle to bring them both off.  Finally—Theon groaned, his cock twitched and he came across Ramsay’s belly.  Ramsay wasn’t too far behind. 

“Ah— _fuck_ —that’s a good boy.” 

Collecting Theon’s cum from his stomach, Ramsay lifted his fingers to Theon’s lips.  Theon wavered.  He knew what parting his lips would get him.  The consequences of a refusal he could only guess at.  Dutifully, eyes lowered, he opened and accepted the intruding digits, the unpleasant viscous seed coating his lips.  He flicked his tongue across Ramsay’s fingers until they were withdrawn, trying his best to swallow the salty after taste.

Wiping his mouth, he asked Ramsay, “Grab a shower with me?” 

Ramsay groaned softly as Theon extricated himself from their entangled position.

“No, we gotta get doing.  We can do it later—I’ll let you ride me again in the tub if you’re good.”

Heat rushed to Theon’s cheeks.  Ramsay was always saying stuff like that, alternately calling him a slut or a good boy, telling him he _belonged_ to Ramsay.  It always got him worked up and made him feel strangely guilty at the same time—like he shouldn’t enjoy it as much as he did, like he was doing something wrong. 

Certainly Robb would tell him he was fucked in the head if he ever mentioned it.  Balon would lose his shit.  Asha would just roll her eyes. 

It made Theon feel uniquely alone.  Suddenly he _really_ didn’t feel like going out with a bunch of people he’d never met, but who probably also wouldn’t understand.

“Hurry up!”  Ramsay tossed him his jeans. 

Hastily, even as he finished dressing, Theon asked, “Do we _have_ to?  Can’t we just stay in tonight?”  Like they didn’t stay in and fuck _every_ night.

“I told you we’re going out.  My friends are all _real_ excited to meet ya.  You don’t wanna disappoint them, do you?”

 _“You don’t want to disappoint me either”_ was only implied, but it was enough; there would be no appealing to Ramsay to take pity on him.

As if he suspected Theon would try to resist somehow, Ramsay followed him downstairs and out to the car.  The weather had gotten colder; Theon shivered in the passenger seat until Ramsay reached over and flipped on the seat heater.

“Thanks.”  When Ramsay didn’t reply—“So, where are we going?”

“Just Bar.  That’s where we always go.”

Theon tried to relax as they drove.  It’d been a while since he’d had to make new friends; he’d met Robb when he was nine and they’d been pretty much inseparable from the first.  They’d always gone to the same schools, taken the same classes.  There had never been any time—or room—for anyone else.  Occasionally they’d pal around with Jon, Robb’s younger half-brother, but with Robb away at school, Theon didn’t see him anymore—the only thing they had really had in common was his brother.  Ramsay was the first real connection Theon had made in a very long time.

“What if they don’t like me?” Theon asked, doing his best to sound casual.

“Who gives a fuck?  _I_ like you.”  The contempt in Ramsay’s voice was at odds with his insistence that they go out to meet his friends in the first place.

“Then why—“

“I want to show you off, all right?”  Ramsay reached over and squeezed Theon’s thigh, gentling his tone.  “Just let me have that, huh, baby?”  He pulled into the approximation of a parking lot that served the dive bar.

“Oh—yeah—I’m sorry.”  Contrite, Theon obediently followed Ramsay inside.

Someone had a metal song playing at maximum volume on the jukebox when they entered.  Ramsay gestured him towards a booth at the back of the room.  A tall, blonde, blue-eyed boy who looked altogether too wholesome to be a friend of Ramsay’s slide off the bench to make room.  Theon took his place and squished in as far into the corner as he could while Ramsay received a round of handshakes and fist bumps.

“This him?” The blonde asked, clapping Ramsay on the shoulder.

“No shit.  You think I’d bring some irrelevant fuck to meet you instead?”

Hastily, he responded, “No, no, man…”

“Listen up, assholes.” Ramsay announced.  Control of the table shifted immediately over to him.  “This is Theon, all right?  Theon—“ He went around the table “—Dick, Alyn you met before, Skinner—“ He pointed to a heavily tattooed man with three piercings in each eyebrow “—Grunt, not his real name, he just doesn’t talk much, and—“ Back to the blonde “—this is Damon.”

Giving them all a companionable nod, Theon said, “Hey.”  It was difficult to think of anything else to add; none of Ramsay’s friends seemed like the type of care if he gave them a polite “how are you?” or not.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Ramsay continued, “Who’s buying the first round?”

“Me.” The one called Skinner volunteered, beckoning to Ben, working the bar across the room.

In short order, they were presented with four pitchers of beer and a pint glass each.  Ramsay topped off Theon’s glass after pouring his own.  Inhaling foam, Theon gulped down a mouthful, just to keep his hands from fidgeting under the table.

Next to him, Ramsay and Damon were discussing how they’d met…

“Where’d you find this one hiding?”

Ramsay laughed.  “You’ll never guess—Roose fuckin’ hired him as his fuckin’ secretary.”

Damon looked surprised.  “No shit?  How’s the old man feel about you sticking it in the help?”

“Hey, I’m not—“

Ramsay spoke over Theon and he fell silent, staring moodily at the cheap varnish on the table in front of him.  “He doesn’t give a fuck—he’s even _pleased_ I’ve got something to _divert_ me.” 

Offended as he was at Ramsay discussing him like he wasn’t even there, Theon almost cracked a smile at the uncannily accurate imitation of Roose’s diction.

Theon swallowed more beer as Damon continued.

“He must be good at it—the diverting—figure that’s why we haven’t seen much of you.”

Ramsay shrugged, “Not my fault I’d rather be getting my dick sucked than hanging out with you fuck-ups.”

“That’s not fair.” Alyn interjected, “Us going out’s gotten you off _plenty_ , remember that girl at that party back in June—“

“Moron,” Ramsay interrupted, “Not in front—“ He jerked his head in Theon’s direction, “He’s too _delicate_ to be hearing about that stuff.”

“I am _not_ —“ But Ramsay threw an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just dumb shit that happened before I met you.  It didn’t mean anything.”

Ramsay pressed a soft kiss to the shell of Theon’s ear.

Theon found himself nodding in understanding, forcing the memory of Robb’s warnings from weeks earlier to the back of his mind.

He finished the rest of his first drink and poured a second, then drank a good portion of that one too.  On an empty stomach, he was already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.

The conversation had moved on from discussing Theon onto some other topic—Theon hadn’t been paying enough attention to follow the direction it had taken now, but he didn’t mind.  Even though Ramsay had said he’d taken Theon out to “show him off,” he wasn’t feeling any particular pressure to impress Ramsay’s friends.  He snuggled closer to Ramsay and took another drink, letting the warmth of true drunkenness begin spreading itself throughout his body.

Sometime during the course of finishing his second drink and starting on a third, pressure had built in Theon’s bladder and he finally had to whisper in Ramsay’s ear that he needed the restroom. 

Damon and Ramsay slid out of the booth and Theon stood up, bracing himself for the rush of booze to his head.  Shakily, he made his way to the restroom.

Pissing felt incredible; Theon sighed in relief.  He buttoned up his fly.  It had to be getting late; maybe Ramsay would be ready to go home soon.  Maybe Theon could even suggest leaving.  He’d been nothing more than a side-show to Ramsay’s time out with his friends.

The door opened and closed behind him as he stood at the sink to wash his hands.

Theon didn’t look up until a voice behind him said, “I never asked you how your car was doing since I fixed it up for you.”

It was Alyn.  “Oh, right… it’s been fine.  No problems.”  Theon watched Alyn nod at him in the mirror.

“Good, good… that’s real good.”  He took a step closer.  Theon realized Alyn hadn’t yet used the bathroom. 

“Uh, yeah.  Thanks for the help.”  Theon turned.  Alyn was directly behind him now; he tried to side-step him, but the other boy backed him up until his lower back hit the sink.

“Ramsay paid me, but it doesn’t seem like I got a thank you from you yet.”

“I just said—“

“I mean a _real_ one.”

“I-I don’t have any money.” Theon stammered. 

_Please, please someone else come in here, please…_

Alyn shook his head.  “I’m not talking about money.  Ramsay said you know how to suck cock real good.  Well, that’s what I want.”  He nodded toward the grimy tile.  “Why don’t you get down on your knees and we’ll call it even?”

Theon hesitated, trying to think of a way out.  He could probably get in a punch, but Alyn was bigger than him and Theon had had too much to drink; he didn’t think he could get away before being over-powered.

“Ramsay wouldn’t like it.”  He tried to be firm, but his voice still shook.

Alyn chuckled darkly.  “You see, that’s where you’re wrong.  I’ve known Ramsay from a lot longer than you and I say he wouldn’t give a fuck.  I think he’d even encourage you to get on your _fucking_ knees like I said and _open up_.”

While he couldn’t deny that Alyn had known Ramsay longer, he had to be wrong about everything else.  Ramsay may be a lot of things, but he was nothing if not possessive of Theon and would undoubtable be pissed about his so-called friend going behind his back and trying to solicit sexual favors from the person Ramsay called “his.”

Theon didn’t get a chance to voice any of these arguments.  Fingers stained black with grease dug into his shoulders and shoved him to the ground.  The back of his head cracked against the edge of the sink; light danced in Theon’s vision and instantaneously he had a throbbing headache.

“Please…” He moaned from the floor, “Don’t…”

He kept his eyes closed even has he heard Alyn pull down his zipper… The temptation to beg was still there, but it seemed smarter to keep his mouth firmly clamped shut…

“The _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

Ramsay’s voice.

Theon opened his eyes in time to see Ramsay get off a mean punch that connected with Alyn’s face and broke his nose.  Blood splattered on the tile.  “Ramsay, man, I was just having a little fun—“

“He’s _mine_ , you fucking asshole, what part of that was unclear?” Ramsay snarled, holding Alyn by the front of his t-shirt and shaking him.

“I just wanted him to suck my cock a little!  He came on to me… maybe you should tell _him_ to stop whoring around!”

Ramsay rounded on Theon, where he was cowering, practically tucked under the sink.

“Did you?  Did you _really_ have the fucking _balls_?”

“No, no, Ramsay, I’d _never_!  He’s full of shit, he followed me in here and started demanding I suck his cock, I’d _never_ do that to you, I swear!”

His face was wet with tears.

“You’re a shit liar.” Ramsay spat at Alyn.

Alyn looked like he was going to offer up another denial, but he thought better of it and kept his mouth shut.

He charged at Ramsay instead, trying to make for the door.

He never stood a chance.  Ramsay grabbed him and suddenly, Alyn was screaming worse than before and blood was again hitting the floor.  As if it were nothing, Ramsay reached over and pulled out the pocket knife now protruding from his friend’s shoulder.  His eyes were wild.

“Y-you stabbed me.” Alyn mumbled in disbelief, “You fuckin’ _stabbed_ me…”

“You’re lucky I don’t slit your fucking throat.  Get the fuck out of here.”

Alyn started to go, but faltered before passing Ramsay, falling back, afraid.

“Fucking _go_!” Ramsay shouted.  His voice echoed off the walls.

Alyn jumped like he’d be struck again and hurried out, covering his broken nose.  The back of his military surplus jacket sported a growing bloodstain.

“You…” Ramsay turned his attention back to Theon, “Get out from under there.  We’re going home.  _Now_.”

Theon didn’t need to be told twice.  He scampered out of the bathroom after Ramsay as fast as he could, tripping over his own feet.

Damon tried to accost them on their way to the exit.  “Man, what happened, you were in there forever, Alyn left, and his nose was bleeding?  It looked pretty bad, was there a fight…?”

Ramsay pushed passed him without a word.

Outside, the night air cut like a knife. Winter was well on its way. Ramsay hustled them inside the car and sped out of the parking lot without saying a thing. Theon tried his best to keep calm but ended up spewing apologies into the silence.

"''M sorry, 'm sorry, I don't want you to get in trouble, I don't want anybody to get in trouble." He mumbled the words over and over.

"No one's in any trouble." Ramsay finally replied tersely.  It sounded like he was clenching his teeth.

"I'm sorry." Theon answered lamely, one more time before falling quiet.

The lights were still on back at the Bolton residence; they hadn't stayed out as late as anticipated and Theon could hear Roose on the phone as they passed by the door to his study. From the couple of words Theon caught, it sounded like a business call. Tedious as the conversation undoubtedly was, Roose was _still_ having a better night than Theon.

Upstairs, Ramsay slammed the door behind them. On shaking legs, Theon made his way into the bathroom. He stood at the sink for a long time, staring at his reflection. There was blood on his collar. Alyn's blood. Alyn, who'd intended to rape him.

Suddenly all the beer Theon had drank was bubbling up his throat again. He barely made it to the toilet before he heaved and liquid forced its way passed his lips.

Ramsay stood over him and watched him finish retching.  Wordlessly, he handed Theon a glass of water where he lay, slumped against the toilet.

Gratefully, Theon gulped it down, trying to rid his mouth of the acrid taste of his own vomit.

“’M sorry.” He murmured again.

“I should have fucking gutted that asshole.” Was all Ramsay said in answer. 

He turned on the tap in the bathtub, let the water rise while Theon watched.

“Get undressed.” Ramsay said finally.  He started taking off his own clothes.

Theon followed suit.

By the time they were done, the tub had filled most of the way.  Ramsay shut off the water and stepped in, motioning for Theon to join him.

The bathtub was too small for Ramsay alone, let alone two people.  Theon had to puzzle out how to fit himself, ending up facing Ramsay with knees wedged on either side of his thighs.  There wasn’t any place to fit his arms without becoming awkwardly spread against Ramsay’s chest like a starfish, so Theon tucked his hands under his chin and rested his head against Ramsay’s shoulder.

“It’s all okay now.” Ramsay whispered, “I’m going to take care of you.  I’ll protect you.”

All Theon could do was nod into Ramsay’s chest in response.

“That little shit won’t show his face around us again.” Ramsay promised, “I take care of what’s mine.  You got that, baby?”

“Yeah.” Theon replied, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“Good boy.”

They lay in the warm water, Ramsay rubbing gentle circles on Theon’s back.  Theon let himself be lulled into a place that existed right before sleep where he didn’t have to think what almost being assaulted by one of Ramsay’s supposed friends.

It was a little while before he noticed Ramsay was hard, his cock pressed against Theon’s lower abdomen.

He pushed himself off Ramsay a little, just enough that he could look him in the face.

Ramsay’s fingers tapped a little rhythm against his bottom.  Unbelievably, Theon felt the beginning of stirrings in his own cock.

“D’you remember I promised you something if you were a good boy tonight?”

Theon tilted his head quizzically.

Ramsay continued, “I know you were a good boy.  You didn’t let that fucker touch you.  You know only I get to do that.  Do you remember what I said you could ride me in the bath if you were good?”

 _Right_.  Theon had momentarily forgotten, but now he nodded his agreement.

“Well,” Ramsay said, giving him an inscrutable look, “Go on then.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and Theon take things to a new level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR READING AS ALWAYS.

The bathtub wasn’t very conducive to fucking, but Ramsay wasn’t doing any of the work, so he didn’t care.  Theon knelt up as best he could, trapping his knees between the porcelain and Ramsay’s thighs. As he’d done earlier, albeit somewhat less clumsily, Theon rubbed his bottom against Ramsay’s cock.  He even managed to stroke it a little this time, a nice touch.

After some working himself open, Theon finally guided Ramsay’s cock inside him.  They both groaned together.  Theon tipped his head back and closed his eyes as he began to fuck himself.

Theon had rode him hard earlier, but that because Ramsay had made him.  This time was different.  His body clenched around Ramsay’s cock as tightly as Ramsay could have ever wanted it.  In the close quarters, Ramsay could feel Theon’s muscles shake as he pushed himself to keep going, to keep taking Ramsay deep inside him without rest. 

Water sloshed out of the tub onto the bathroom floor as Theon bounced in Ramsay’s lap.  Ramsay closed his eyes as well. 

The only sounds were the splashing water and Theon’s panting, gasping whispers, “Please, please, please, please, please…” echoing off the tile.

In his mind, Ramsay could see the blood that had splattered on Theon’s front.  His fist clenched and unclenched under the water as he remembered the sweet give as his knife penetrated Alyn’s flesh.  He was going to come thinking about the desperation in Theon’s eyes, the dueling emotions… fear that Ramsay would listen to his friend over him and the simultaneously relief that he was just _there_ at all.

“You’re a good boy,” He murmured to Theon, eyes still closed, “You know who you belong to.  It’s everyone else who’s the problem.  Alyn _knew_ you’re important, but maybe I oughta get you a collar.  Or something more permanent, a brand or something.  A tattoo.  Or matching piercings.  You know Skinner does all that stuff, right?  Real professional-like too.  You wanna come, baby?  I’m real close now…”

Theon moaned something unintelligible as Ramsay wrapped his hand around his shaft and stroked.

“I’ll always protect you.” Ramsay worked Theon’s cock as he crooned gently to him.  “No one else would, but I will.  You just stay loyal to me, like tonight.  I’ll take care of you.”

That pushed Theon over the edge into his orgasm and his body clenched around Ramsay even tighter than before, managing to get him off too.

Afterwards they lay in the rapidly cooling water, Theon tucked against Ramsay’s chest again.  He lay motionless except for the occasional shudder, but after a few caresses from Ramsay he’d go quiet again. 

Eventually his tremors turned to shivers.  It was past time they’d dried off.  Ramsay helped Theon out of the tub.  They watched the water drain together.

Theon was either too tired or distressed to towel himself off on his own, so Ramsay took the initiative.  “Wanna go straight to bed?” He asked as he knelt to run the towel down Theon’s legs.

“I-I think so.” Theon replied shakily, “I-is that okay?”

Ramsay sighed, like he had to think it over before agreeing to let Theon have his way.  “That’s just fine, sweetheart.”

Alyn may have actually done him a favor; nothing like a good threat to keep Theon firmly in his grasp.  _And_ Theon had gotten another taste of just what Ramsay was capable of when pushed.  That ought to keep him in line.

Ramsay threw back the covered and waited for Theon to crawl into bed first.  He slotted himself into the remaining space.  Theon closed the remaining distance between them and snuggled up close against Ramsay’s side.  They were both still naked; his cock nestled against Theon’s thighs, a nice reminder that Ramsay could have him anytime he wanted.

“I’m gonna watch TV for a while.  You go to sleep if you want.” Ramsay told Theon, reaching across him to grab the remote from the bedside table.  In the darkness, he felt rather than saw Theon nod.

The TV illuminated the room with flickering light.  Ramsay muted the volume, flipping through the channels until he came across a movie that looked vaguely interesting.  He adjusted the pillow to make himself more comfortable.

“Are you sure there’s not going to be any trouble after—after tonight?” Theon asked after a few moments.

“I’m sure.”

“But how do you _know_?” Theon insisted.  He sounded like a petulant child.

“Because I know.” 

Theon started fussing under the blankets; he knew Ramsay wanted him to be quiet, but the looming specter of consequences had him too nervous to settle now.  He needed an explanation or he’d never get to sleep.

“Look, the bartender, Ben, is an old friend of mine; he knows how to clean up a mess and he knows how to keep a secret.  Alyn’s all talk and he’ll never want anyone to know how I spanked him and sent him running.”

“What about your dad?  He won’t find out?”

It was a testament of how adept Theon had become at reading Ramsay’s mood that, though he couldn’t see Ramsay’s glare in the shifting shadows, he quickly added, “S-Since he likes me being with you and all… I don’t think him to stop thinking I’m good for you or whatever.  I don’t want him being mad or upset with you.”

“Roose won’t find out.” Ramsay assured him firmly, “And his opinion shouldn’t matter to you anyways.  The only thing that’s relevant to you is what _I_ think, you got that?”

With no room left for argument, Theon nodded and Ramsay felt him get comfortable again.  Ramsay pretended to watch TV.  After a while, Theon’s breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep. 

Ramsay wondered idly if there wasn’t another way he could see Theon splattered with blood again… but his own, this time.  Sometimes this “relationship” was fucking _agonizing_ …

But he’d come this far.  He wasn’t about to quit now.  He didn’t need Domeric covering up for him like his brother had with those others boys, with a couple delicately placed kisses and a few hundred cash.

Thinking about Theon, bloody and scared, was getting him hard again.  Hand scuttling under the blanket until he found Theon’s bare thigh, Ramsay squeezed him just a little bit, yet firmly enough that his fingertips dimpled Theon’s flesh.  He was unbelievably soft there, right under his buttocks, with just the right amount of fuzz.

Ramsay’s other hand found his cock while he continued groping Theon, feeling his way to his ass.  He imagined how it would feel to rend that tender flesh open with his belt.  It was good leather—a backhanded gift from Roose meant to imply that he should dress better.   He wondered how much force it would take to raise welts—how long until they’d open and run.  He’d probably have to tie Theon down to make him cooperate, but maybe he’d eventually learn to just _take_ it…

He must have drifted off at some point.  When he next opened his eyes, a weak sunrise was asserting its rays through the windows.  The space next to Ramsay in bed was empty, the sheets cool under his palm.  Theon had been up for some time.

Ramsay sat up on his elbows.  He wasn’t stupid; he knew sometimes Theon crept out while he was still sleeping.  A few times, Ramsay had only pretended to be asleep when Theon woke and followed him downstairs.  He always ended up downstairs, watching Roose cook breakfast.  That was all right.  Theon was intimidated by Roose.  They wouldn’t be having any heart-to-hearts anytime soon.

This time though, Ramsay could hear Theon’s voice, speaking softly from the bathroom.  The closed door muffled his words. 

Ramsay got up, threw on his jeans from the night before and went to investigate.

“—That’s good, that’s really good.  I’m glad you’re having a good time, man—“ Theon was saying as Ramsay pressed his ear to the door.

“—Maybe, I’d have ask—I mean, I’d have to see if I’m busy, but definitely maybe.  She should really meet your family first, you know.  If you’re that serious about her.”

_Who the fuck was he talking it?_

But it was obvious, wasn’t it?  The only person Theon spoke to with any regularity, besides Ramsay himself, was _Robb fucking Stark_.

“—Yeah we’re still seeing each other.  It’s great, really.  _Really_.”

Ramsay felt his fists clench and unclench.  He felt vaguely outside himself.  Theon shouldn’t be talking about him with _anyone_. 

He tried his best to quiet his rage so he could resume listening…

“—Else would I be?  But seriously, I’ll be around whenever you’re home, just shoot me a text.”  Theon paused to listen to whatever drivel Robb had to tell him.  “I dunno about that, but we’ll figure something out.”  Another pause.  “All right, see you, Robb.”

Ramsay busied himself rifling through his drawers, pretending to look for something to wear, when Theon emerged from the bathroom.  His hair was wet.

“Oh—you’re up.” He said, trying to cover up his surprise.

How to play this?

Ramsay settled on acting casual—for now.

“’Morning.” He replied. 

“I was in the shower.” Theon said unnecessarily.

“That’s obvious.”

He laughed nervously.  “I—uh—I still felt kinda dirty—after last night.”

Ramsay shrugged.  They stood, watching each other, for longer than was comfortable.  Ramsay sensed Theon wanted to tell him sometime, maybe about his phone call with Robb.  So he waited.

It paid off.

“I called Robb.” Theon forced the words out.  “I know you don’t really like him—or you’re jealous or whatever—but he’s been my best friend since forever and after last night, I—“

Whatever excuse Theon had been about to give was cut off when Ramsay slammed him back against the bathroom door. 

He got right up in Theon’s faced.  “You think I’m _jealous_ of your little limp-dick friend Robb?” He whispered.  To punctuate his question, he ran his tongue from Theon’s collarbone to just under his ear.  Theon shuddered and slid down the wall a few inches as his knees went weak.

“Is that what you think?” Ramsay asked again, wrapping his hand around Theon’s throat to hold him up.

“N-no.” Theon choked, “I don’t think that, I swear!”

“That’s what you said.”  Ramsay squeezed Theon’s throat until he coughed.  “Are you lying to me?”

“I’m not, please, you’re—you’re just confusing me—“ Ramsay cut him off this time by throwing him across the room.  Theon stumbled and fell against the edge of the couch, grabbing it for support.

Ramsay didn’t let him get to his feet; he was right behind him, bending Theon over the arm of the sofa, pressing against him, making sure he could feel how hard Ramsay was.

“I’m not jealous,” He continued conversationally, toying with his belt buckle, “Because I know you were a ripe little virgin when I found you—“ Theon whimpered and squirmed under him.  Ramsay pressed a hand to the center of his back to hold him in place.

One-handed, Ramsay undid his belt and continued, “And I know if Robb were a real man he would have fucked you—how could he not?  He knows how easily you give it up.”

Theon started to speak; Ramsay cut him off before he could utter so much as syllable.

“And don’t give me any of that “as close as brothers” crap either; like I told you, I know how it is with _brothers_.  To be honest, I’m surprised _yours_ never fucked you either.  The way you let them walk all over you, they probably could have.”

Weakly, Theon protested, “No, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t let them…”

Ramsay spoke over him.

“No wonder Alyn tried to get his cock in your mouth last night.”

Theon ttrashed under him, like he was trying to get away.  Clearly, Ramsay had struck a nerve.

He rolled his eyes.  He’d really thought Theon would be over that _by now_.  It wasn’t like Alyn had even gotten his cock _out_ before Ramsay had interrupted.

_Sensitive little baby._

Even in his contempt, the thought went straight to his cock.

“I’m sorry!” Theon exclaimed, “I’m sorry I said you were jealous—I know you’re not.  I just—needed to do something _normal_.  After last night.  Please?”

Ramsay was grateful Theon’s face was pressed into the couch cushions instead of facing him; he wouldn’t want him to see the way he was grinning.

Theon was still naked from his early morning shower.  When Ramsay’s hand landed across his bare ass, he yelped and his whole body jerked forward in a belated effort to avoid pain. 

“You’re so good at begging.” Ramsay told him, his voice sickeningly sweet and dripping with mocking affection, “Anyone else would find it pathetic, but it makes my cock hard, so…”

He paused for effect.  Theon had stopped squirming and now just laid there, quiet.

Pleased, Ramsay said, “I’ll tell you what.  I’m going to give you a little spanking—ten swats—and if you’re a good boy and take your punishment, I’ll fuck you and let you come whenever and however you want, all right?  You’ll like that, won’t you?”

“Uh huh.” Theon murmured, nodding his head.  Ramsay looked at his flushed, tear-streaked face and felt a flush of pride.

 _His, all his_.

He delivered another smack—the first of Theon’s punishment—without preamble.  Again, Theon flinched away.  Ramsay immediately followed it up with another, and another.

Three down.

He watched as Theon’s ass immediately turned pink.  Satisfying, but not nearly enough.

He made sure the next two were harder.

That put a bit more color into Theon’s cheeks.

“Halfway there, baby.” He said encouragingly, rubbing his hands over Theon’s ass, warm to the touch now.

Another two smacks followed, on alternate sides of Theon’s bottom.  He was coming a bit undone now; squirming and whimpering, flinching away every time he thought he sensed movement from Ramsay.

“Three more.”

Ramsay drew them out, putting as much force into each blow as possible. 

By the time he had finished, Theon was slumped half over the arm of the couch and half on the floor, unable to hold himself in position anymore. 

Ramsay sat on the floor next to him and pulled Theon fully into his lap.  It was an awkward position, but Theon didn’t protest or try to move.  He just let Ramsay do what he wanted.

“Shh, you’re all done.  You were _such_ a good boy for me.”

Theon nuzzled against Ramsay’s neck, hiding his face.  Ramsay could feel the wetness of his tears.  He gave Theon’s ass a good squeeze; it was hot to the touch now, his skin a bright red.

 _Pretty_.

Again, he was glad Theon couldn’t see his smile.  It was so easy, to make Theon cry, to confuse him… to call forth from him whatever emotional response Ramsay happened to crave at the time.  With anyone else, he would have—and _had_ —found it infuriating.

With Theon though… maybe it was just that he was always so damn _genuine_ about it.  It was never _just_ about giving Ramsay what he wanted.  Theon really, truly _wanted_ to please.  Not like all those others, just telling him what he wanted to hear… “Oh, please, stop!” or “I’m sorry!”  Fucking fakers.  Theon honest to goodness _wanted_ to please him, _wanted_ to be good.

Feeling quite magnanimous, he asked, “Do you remember what I said you could have as your reward if you were good?”

He felt Theon’s lips move against his neck as he affirmed that he remembered.  Gently, Ramsay eased Theon off him until they were sitting side by side.  

With Theon lying on his front during the spanking, Ramsay hadn’t been able to get an idea of whether he was aroused despite the pain.  Now… clearly Theon, for all his squirming and whining, had enjoyed himself.

 _Good_.

Ramsay pulled down his jeans and took Theon by the hair.

“Go on, get it nice and wet.  Then I’ll fuck you.”

Lowing his lips to Ramsay’s cock, Theon moaned.  It sounded almost like a sound of relief.  Ramsay let him suckle passed the point that it was strictly necessary.  It felt good and Theon seemed to be enjoying it; his eye fluttered closed and his breathing evened out.

After giving him a few extra minutes, Ramsay eased him off and said, “Bend over the bed, it’ll be more comfortable.”

Theon arranged himself in position.  Thanks for his attentions, Ramsay’s cock was wet and already leaking.

As Ramsay lined himself up to enter Theon, he realized that this was the slowest he’d ever taken things when they fucked.  He pressed his weight forward.  Theon made a whimpery noise back in his throat, but pushed back to meet him.

It didn’t take long for Ramsay to slip inside, but he paused to appreciate the incredible tightness with which Theon’s body clung to him.  With how much they’d fucked in the last day alone, the way Theon’s body had rebounded from being pushed to its limits was impressive.

Another reason Ramsay couldn’t get enough.

He got a grip on Theon’s hips and began to thrust.  Going slowly had the singular advantage that Ramsay could fuck into Theon to the base of his shaft every time, letting him feel every inch.

Theon moaned underneath him and mumbled something Ramsay couldn’t make out, but he had a feeling he knew what Theon had said anyway.

“More?  You want more, baby?”

That was it.  Theon nodded.

Ramsay increased his pace. 

That was another thing he liked.  Theon might think he was inscrutable, but he was in fact so transparent it was laughable.  Coupled with his pure earnestness, Theon’s reactions never disappointed.

Ramsay increased his speed.  Theon bit his lip in a way that only served to increase his drive.

“Remember, you come when you’re ready, sweetheart.  Touch yourself if you need to.  You’re so good, so good for me…”

But Theon didn’t need to touch himself.  Ramsay wasn’t surprised; he’d restricted Theon’s ability to jerk his own cock during sex from the first and it had paid off.  Now he didn’t need anything but the sensation of Ramsay’s dick driving in and out of him to come.

When he sensed Theon getting close, Ramsay made sure he was plowing into Theon as hard and fast as he could while still fucking him deep.  Theon’s panting breathes and moans devolved into one long, drawn out _groan_.  His body clenched so impossibly tight that Ramsay’s own orgasm wasn’t too far behind.

There wasn’t much to do after that.  Theon rolled over onto his back and Ramsay flopped onto the bed next to him, their legs dangling off the side.

“Are you gonna do that again?” Theon asked eventually.

“What, fuck you?” Ramsay chuckled, turned his head to look over at him, “I think I just might…”

“No.”  Theon’s face flushed a darker shade of red, embarrassment mingling with the aftermath of exertion.  “No, I mean the other thing… the spanking…”

“Got you hard, didn’t it?” He asked, grinning.

“Kinda…”

Ramsay shot him the look that experience had taught Theon meant that he’d better give an honest answer.

“I mean, yeah, I got hard.  It still hurt though…”

“Just admit you liked it.”  Ramsay kept his tone light, but the warning was still there.

Theon’s face grew, if possible, even redder.  He couldn’t meet Ramsay’s eyes and his voice dropped to just above a whispered when he answered.

“I liked it.”

The admission felt all the lewder because of its delivery.  But Ramsay didn’t mind a little acting coy.  It was almost sweet.

“Good.” He told Theon, as if his opinion of anything Ramsay did to him mattered.

“Are you gonna do it again?” Theon asked. 

No hesitation this time.  He was excited.

“Probably.” 

 _Absolutely_. 

But of course, there was no reason to put all his cards on the table right now.  They’d been at this for ages and had barely even gotten started as far as Ramsay was concerned.

“When I’m… bad?” Theon asked hesitantly, “Or… or anytime...?”

Ramsay pushed himself up onto his elbows so he was looking down at him.

“I think you already know the answer to that, sweetheart.”

Theon rolled over onto his stomach, knees bent.  His feet kicked slightly, back and forth, in the air.

Ramsay knew how much sexual experience Theon had, but when he looked at him with those big, innocent eyes, none of that seemed real anymore.

“I know.” Theon confessed, “But… tell me anyway?”

 _Fucking hell_.

Ramsay didn’t exactly have a lengthy refractory period, but damn, this fucking kid had him practically ready to go again _minutes_ after finishing.

“All right.”

He moved back so he was positioned sitting up against the pillows at the head of the bed and patted the space next to him.  When Theon moved to join him, Ramsay put an arm around his shoulders and pulled them close. 

Theon settled into the embrace, resting his head on Ramsay’s shoulder and looking up at him, again with those wide eyes.

“All right, what did you want me to tell you again?” He asked, just to make Theon say it again.

Theon looked at him petulantly, but he did as told.

“When are you going to… to spank me like that again?” 

He lowered his voice again as he reached the end of the question.  Ramsay considered pretending he hadn’t heard and making him ask again, but that game had gone on long enough.  If he got bored now, Theon wouldn’t get his story and that just _wouldn’t do_.

“Hmm,” Ramsay feigned thoughtfulness, “Let’s see… I’ll have to do it, when you’re bad, you know that, don’t you?”

He paused as Theon acknowledged his words with a nod and a soft murmur of assent.

“But I don’t _just_ want to do it when you act up… you just might not enjoy it as much when I’m pissed.  I’ll still spank ya when you’re a good boy though.  Maybe even sometimes when you want it… if you ask nicely.  Would you like that?”

Again, Theon nodded.

“You know what I was thinking about last night?”  Ramsay asked, “Besides how much I wanted to carve Alyn up for ya?”

He didn’t bother waiting for Theon’s response this time.  This was about him, what he wanted, what he _expected_ out of this arrangement.

“I thought about how I wanna see you roughed up and bleeding.  Not from anyone else though—fuck that and fuck them if they can’t get it through their thick skull that you’re mine.  I thought about using my belt on you, bruising that pretty, tight little ass of yours.”

Theon held perfectly still while he listened.  He was prone to fidgeting, especially when nervous or uncomfortable, but there was none of that.  Just his rapt attention.

Now for the coup de grace.  The final blow to whatever remaining shred of resistance Theon might still possess.

“I told you about those other boys—with Domeric.  But they didn’t mean anything to me, baby.  I need _you_.  I need you to ache for me.”

He looked deeply into Theon’s eyes.

“I love you, okay, sweetheart?”

Theon shuddered.  His face turned red and he hid, tucking his face against Ramsay’s neck.  He could feel the heat of his flush. 

After a moment, he had recovered enough to respond.

“I love you too.”

Ramsay had expecting nothing less, but that didn’t change the way it felt, hearing Theon finally confess what he’d expected for some time.  It sent a rush all the way down his spine all the way to his toes.  He’d done everything right, played it his way, and Theon had fallen right into his palm like a fruit off the vine. 

He could be wrong, but he suspected Theon was aware of the implications his response held for the future—he was Ramsay’s to do with as he would. 

“We’ll have to find a way to celebrate…”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roose propositions Theon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 is finally here! As I'm sure you all know, there was this whole election and well... I was feeling pretty emotionally compromised for a bit there... so thanks for your patience. I'm certainly not giving up on this fanfic until it's done and I appreciate everyone hanging around to see how it all turns out. Anyway, without further ado, here is chapter 11! Enjoy!

On days they both went to the office, Roose and Theon left in separate cars.  Theon never asked for a ride and Roose never offered.  It made for several awkward moments in the mornings initially, but now that Theon was practically living with Ramsay, nodding to Roose across the driveway as they got into their separate cars had become practically second nature.

They’d always arrive within moments of each other, but Theon had learned to dally in the parking lot for an extra minute or two so Roose would be safely ensconced in his office by the time Theon walked in.

This system suited them both and they never deviated from it.

There was only one thing that ever differed in their routine; every Friday morning, for a long as he’d been working of Roose, Theon would arrive at the office, put his things away, and collect the plain white envelope waiting for him on his desk.

This was payday and it was the same every week, without fail.

Until today.

Today, Theon had closed the door behind him and found Roose Bolton seated behind his desk, clearly waiting for Theon to join him. 

It reminded him of being back in grade school, seeing a teacher sitting at one of the student desks to get “down on their level,” when called in for a one-on-one conversation. 

Except Theon didn’t think Roose wanted to appear to be his equal.  Roose had no interest in easing any anxiety caused by his presence when Theon least expected it.

Roose inclined his head in greeting.

“Greyjoy.”

“G-good morning, sir.”

His voice sounded thick.  Theon swallowed hard, trying to clear his throat.

“Please, sit.”

Roose stood and gestured to the vacated chair.  Theon sat reflexively, then struggled awkwardly to remove his jacket without standing up again.

Roose watched his fumbling without comment.

Waiting for him to speak was unbearable.

“Uh, sir?”

Theon hesitated before asking, “Is everything okay?”

As far as he knew, he hadn’t given Roose any reason to be upset with him and if he had, they crossed paths often enough that there was no reason for Roose to wait to address the problem now.

“Relax.” Roose said in a tone of voice that only served to set Theon more on edge, “Everything is perfectly fine.”

When Roose neglected to elaborate and the silence again grew too oppressive to bare, Theon forced himself to be the first to speak once more.

“O-okay, that’s... good.”

The words felt wrong, insufficient.  He wondered, not for the first time, whether Roose thought he was stupid.

He probably did.

He probably thought lots of things about his only employee—none of them good.  Especially not now.  It was hardly a secret, the things Theon let Ramsay do to him.  How could they be, when Ramsay wanted _everyone_ to know he’d made Theon his bitch? 

The number of times Ramsay had made him scream in combined pleasure and pain when Roose was just a floor below them in the house…

The scratches and cuts that ran up and down his back were starting to itch.  Paranoidly, Theon wondered if Roose was somehow aware of even that intimate detail of his relationship with Ramsay…

Theon tried to subtly pull on the back of his shirt to try and relieve the discomfort without making his movements too noticeable.  Roose was still watching him, his steely gaze unwavering.  He appeared calm, but so did the ocean before a storm.

“Uh, sir?   Was there something… else?”

Roose continued staring him down.  It was likely unintentional, but Theon was still the first to look away.

“I have a proposal for you, Greyjoy.” Roose stated.

“A proposal?” He asked.

It was incredibly uncomfortable, having to look _up_ at Roose.  It reinforced his feelings of inferiority.  Why had he sat down to begin with?  Theon could feel himself starting to sweat, though the temperature of the office wasn’t warm.

“Ramsay has become quite… fond… of you in the past months.”

As awkward as this whole situation was, Theon couldn’t help feeling a burst of pride at those words.  It had been about two weeks—not that he was keeping track—since the night he and Ramsay had exchanged their “I love yous” and Theon _still_ got excited every time something reminded him that Ramsay had chosen _him_.

It had strengthened his resolve that he wouldn’t let anything come between them.  Not even Roose, if he was about to fire Theon over his relationship with his son, or tell him to end it, or _whatever_.

This serge of determination made him feel a bit better.  More sure of himself.  He could handle whatever Roose wanted to _propose_.

And if he couldn’t, Ramsay could.

“I expect Ramsay has already made you aware of my feelings regarding your… relationship.”

Theon tried to force himself to meet Roose’s eyes as he replied, but ended up settling his gaze somewhere to the right of him instead.

“He’s, ah, kept me _appraised_ of the situation, yeah.”

Roose raised his eyebrows at Theon’s transparent attempt at exuding confidence.  The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, a miniscule movement that Theon had learned was Roose Bolton’s equivalent of a smile.

“Then you are aware I’ve had something of a… change of heart, in recent weeks.” Roose continued.

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Theon answered.

“I—yeah.”

There was no reason to lie, no reason to try and act tough.  Roose saw him for exactly what he was.

“I’m—I’m glad you approve, sir.  Ramsay is—important—to me.  I would hate for anything to come between us.” 

Theon kept his head bowed, his voice humble.

He waited for Roose to reply. 

Instead, his employer reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.  When he withdrew his hand, Roose was holding the plain white envelope Theon was accustomed to receiving every Friday.

When Theon reached out to take it, Roose took a step back, just out of reach.  Theon gaped at him in confusion.

“My proposal is thus,” He went on, as they had these conversations all the time, “You no longer work for me—“

_Wait, what?_

Had he embarrassed himself that badly?

“Please, sir, if I’ve done something wrong, I’ll fix it!  I—I need this job, please—“

Roose held up a hand.

Theon fell silent, stunned.  He couldn’t believe Roose was firing him.  He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong…

“Greyjoy, I am not finished.  When I say you no longer work for me, I am referring to working for me here, in this office.  I am offering you a—let’s call it a change of position.  I will continue to employ you—at your current rate—but you will no longer be expected here during the week.”

“W-what would you have me do instead?”

Rather than replying, Roose rested on the edge of the desk, not quite sitting on the corner, but no longer standing over Theon as he had been. 

“It is a hazard of both the untested and the uniquely successful alike that each will fall victim to a certain hubris.” Roose began, “When I was a young man, I was possessed of certain desires, which I may have acted on without repercussion—until one day, a woman arrived on my doorstep with a child in her arms.  I had no doubt it was mine—the child did have my eyes—but I went through the motions of determining for certain regardless.”

Theon was painfully aware that he did not want to be hearing this.  Shouldn’t be hearing this.  Especially not from Roose.  It was too private, too personal.  Ramsay would kill him if he knew. 

But he was a captive audience and Roose continued speaking.

“All that remained once the results came back was negotiating her price.  I had no interest in a messy battle in court.  I agreed to provide for most of the boy’s upbringing and assigned a young man working for me at the time—Heke, his name was—to check in on them periodically.  It should have ended there, and would have—Ramsay was never meant to learn who sired him—but for Domeric.”

In spite of himself, Theon found himself hanging on every word of Roose’s story.  Ramsay never spoke of his childhood and Roose had never spoken of his eldest son within Theon’s hearing.

“Domeric was an accomplished boy—he excelled in school, rode horses, played the harp.  Full of promise, but sensitive—lonely.  Over the years he formed numerous relationships with young boys.  The Redfort boys, particularly Mychel, the youngest.  Domeric mentored him, until Horton Redfort sent him off to join his brothers at boarding school.”

Roose paused to look passed Theon, remembering.  For once, the shrewd intelligence behind his icy blue eyes was hidden behind something else—a misty countenance that was so out of character for Roose it was unnerving.  He looked almost… weary.

“Domeric wanted a brother desperately.  And so, against my wishes, he began spending time with Ramsay.  He kept it out of my house, at first.  But eventually it progressed to the point where, after a falling out with his mother, Ramsay came to live here as well.  Domeric had taken it upon himself to dismiss Heke and Ramsay needed a guiding hand and constant watching over, so perhaps it was for the best… or so it was for a time.”

Theon wondered exactly how much Roose knew about the relationship between Domeric and Ramsay, but he wasn’t about to ask.

“I have always suspected that Ramsay had a hand in Domeric’s death.” Roose concluded bluntly, “Nothing was ever proven, of course--the death appeared natural, if untimely, and only I had cause to question it.  But a man needs an heir and, with Domeric removed, I was left with Ramsay.”

It all seemed unbelievable.  That Roose would be so callous as to allow Domeric’s death to remain a mystery.  That Ramsay could have killed someone--killed his own brother.  But it still didn’t feel as unbelievable as it should have, as it probably would have if Theon hadn’t spent the last months constantly in the presence of one or the other, Roose or Ramsay.   

Roose was hardly a warm, loving father and Ramsay--could Ramsay kill someone?  That Theon couldn’t immediately answer in the negative was troubling enough on its own.

“Sir?” Theon asked, desperately seeking a change of subject, “W-what does this all have to do with me?  W-what are you asking me to do?”

Without misstep, Roose answered his question.

“Exactly what you have been doing.  Spend time with Ramsay.  Watch him.  And if you observe anything… concerning… you come to me.”

Theon immediately flashed back to that night—the blood on the tile, Ramsay’s knife sticking out of Alyn’s shoulder.  Did Roose know?  Ramsay had assured Theon he wouldn’t find out but…

Before Roose could read the panic on his face, Theon asked, “Are you asking me to _spy_ on my _boyfriend_?  For money?”

His incredulity bordered on rudeness, but Roose chose not to comment on it.  Instead, his lips flicked up into their semblance of a smile again.

“I am asking you to carry on exactly as you have been.” He said firmly, “Go back to my son.  Give him whatever he asks of you.  Unless… you are telling me that you refuse?  I was under the impression that you desired my son’s attentions…”

It wasn’t a threat, exactly, but Theon was sure any refusal on his part would be met with Roose withdrawing his “support” for he and Ramsay’s relationship.

He couldn’t allow that. 

Besides, Roose was giving him exactly what he wanted, if he was honest with himself.  A “job” that barely involved working and didn’t take him away from Ramsay.  Chances were, Ramsay wouldn’t even _do_ anything that Roose would consider “concerning.”  And if he did, well, wasn’t it _good_ , then, that Roose and Theon could protect him?

Wasn’t that for the best?

Theon took a deep breath.

“Okay.  I’ll do it.”

Roose held out the envelope.   

With the money in hand, Theon felt dirty. 

“I don’t think I need to tell you that if you inform Ramsay, this arrangement is at an end.” Roose told him.

“Uh huh.” Theon murmured, not caring that he’d dropped the formality with which he usually spoke to Roose.

He shoved the envelope into his backpack.  The check inside would be crumbled when he tried to deposit it later.  But right now, he just wanted it out of his sight.

Theon looked up at Roose, who continued watching him impassively. 

“What should I tell Ramsay?” He asked, “If he asks why I don’t need to work here anymore.”

The question just a cover-up for what he really wanted—validation, assurance he was doing the right thing, _something_.  But it was absurd.  This was _Roose Bolton_.  He wasn’t going to find fatherly advice or comfort here.

“You’re a bright boy, I’m sure you will think of something.”

Roose’s inflection never changed, but Theon was sure that was sarcasm.

And yet he still found himself admitting—

“I feel like a whore.  Sir.  I mean, you’re paying me to… to… be with Ramsay… in exchange for your money…”

“Like?” 

Theon had the unsettling feeling that he was about to see Roose Bolton laugh.

But the moment passed and Roose only said, “Greyjoy, that’s what a whore _does_.”

And he turned to go.

“Sir?” Theon asked, “Should I—What should I do now?”

Roose didn’t even bother to look back.

“Go back to my son, Greyjoy.”

Theon didn’t move until he heard Roose close the door to his office behind him.  Then he slowly gathered his things.  It had been barely twenty minutes since he’d arrived at the office.

He thought about texting Ramsay, to tell him he’d be back soon, but decided against it.  It was too difficult to explain what had just transpired.  He’d have an easier time doing it face-to-face.

Of course, he’d have to think of what to say to Ramsay either way.  Maybe he’d just tell him that Roose had put his job on hiatus?  Ramsay already seemed to resent any time that Theon spent around his father; he’d probably be pretty quick to accept _whatever_ Theon told him, since it meant they’d spend less time apart.

He didn’t bother texting Ramsay to let him know he’d be back home soon.  Theon told himself it was because he wanted his reappearance back at the house to be a surprise.

But he wasn’t exactly bursting with excitement and he drove home slowly, feeling somewhat dazed.

The sun was shining through the leaves that still clung stubbornly to the trees.  Then Theon turned off the main roads and drove under the pine tree-lined back streets that led up to the Bolton house.  It wasn’t truly so much darker under the trees that grouped tightly around the driveway, but Theon felt ready to go upstairs and collapse into bed regardless.  It may as well have been the middle of the night, for how tired he felt after his conversation with Roose.

Going upstairs meant confronting Ramsay first, thought.

Theon reluctantly let himself in using the spare key Roose kept hidden under a potted plant on the porch.

The house was quiet, as was usual.  Roose didn’t make a lot of noise, even when he was home, and he certainly didn’t tolerate excessive volume from anyone else.  Theon cringed, recalling how likely it was that Roose had overheard him and Ramsay in their more… intimate moments.

He plodded slowly upstairs to Ramsay’s apartment, which he still couldn’t help thinking of as simply “Ramsay’s room,” with Roose’s words fresh in his mind.

Ramsay was the son he had clearly never wanted, and yet Roose’s behavior towards him was so at odds with that attitude--giving Ramsay a rent-free, private space in his house, paying for his schooling, the seemingly unlimited access to money…

All that while believing Ramsay had killed his own brother?  Was family legacy truly so important to Roose that it trumped murder?

Theon shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

There’d certainly been times when, given the opportunity, _he_ would have murdered Rodrick or Maron…

Besides, maybe Roose was wrong.  Theon wouldn’t be surprised if he was just a _little_ bit paranoid, especially where Ramsay was concerned.

Anyway, now wasn’t the time to think about any of this.  He had to appear normal to talk to Ramsay.  Like nothing was wrong…

“The fuck are you doing back here?” Ramsay demanded before Theon had even had a chance to close the door, “I thought you had to go be my father’s lapdog today.”

“I--uh--“ His voice faltered.  This was too hard with Ramsay watching him.

Theon let his gaze drop to the floor.

“I--“ He tried again, “I think I got laid off.”

Ramsay looked at him quizzically.

“I mean, Roose said he’s not gonna really need me for--for the time being.  Don’t worry, he said he’s still gonna pay me though, so I’ll still have money.  I guess I’ll be like… his on-call assistant or something.  He’ll tell me when he wants me.”

He was talking too fast, stumbling over his words, but Ramsay didn’t seem to notice.  He laughed at Theon instead.

“Who gives a shit about the money?  You’ve got me to be your sugar daddy.  You better make sure you keep paying me back though.  And you know what I want…”

Theon nodded, grateful that it was over--he’d told Ramsay of the new arrangement without him questioning or catching on to the true purpose behind it.  Now all he needed was to shove the guilt he was feeling deep enough where it wouldn’t bother him.

Ramsay was looking at him critically.  Maybe he wasn’t out of the woods just yet… Theon swallowed hard and forced himself to meet Ramsay’s eyes like nothing was amiss.

Ramsay was still appraising him, eyes narrowed.

“Have you been picking at your scabs again?”

Theon released his breathe in a rush that left him feeling a bit dizzy.

“What?”

“You fucking heard me.  The back of your shirt’s all bloody.  You’ve been picking at them again, haven’t you?”

He had been momentarily puzzled, but now that Ramsay mentioned it, he did remember scratching at his healing back some on the drive home… maybe more than he’d thought…

And Ramsay hated it when he picked at his healing injuries.

“Get undressed and lie down on the bed.” Ramsay ordered harshly.

Theon stripped down quickly.  Ramsay was right--the back of his shirt was speckled with pinpoints of blood.  Briefly, he was annoyed with himself until he remembered there was no need to dry clean his shirts if he didn’t need to go into Roose’s office for work anymore.

Following Ramsay’s instructions, Theon laid on out his stomach on the bed and waited.  He could hear him doing something in the bathroom, but when Ramsay next spoke to him it was from directly behind Theon at the foot of the bed.

“I’m going to clean you up.  You’re no use to anyone if you get infected.”

Theon nodded.  After a moment, he felt the mattress sink as Ramsay knelt over him.

“You better hold still.”

Ramsay didn’t give him much choice in that.  Theon ended up trapped under him, as Ramsay sat on his butt, his thighs straddling Theon and holding his own legs between them.  He could barely squirm as Ramsay began applying treatment to his torn back.

Hydrogen peroxide hissed as it came into contact with the cuts.  None of them were particularly deep this time, but still, it stung.

“Quit squirming,” Ramsay scolded, “Fucking baby… this is your own damn fault.  I told you not to pick at it.” 

He pinched Theon’s hip--hard--to quiet him.

“I didn’t mean to!”

But it was useless to complain.   Ramsay splashed another round of the burning liquid onto his back.  Theon wasn’t sure if it was punishment for whining. 

He chanced a question as Ramsay dried him off and began applying a thin coat of ointment.

“H-How’s it look?”

There was amusement in Ramsay’s voice when he answered.

“Good.  It looks good-- _you_ look good.”

Theon smiled too, despite everything.  Whatever salve Ramsay was rubbing onto his back had eased the sting and he felt almost relaxed for the first time since he’d woken up.  He closed his eyes.  Maybe Ramsay would let him take a nap…

“You know what happens now, don’t you?” Ramsay asked.

“Mmm?”

He didn’t even bother opening his eyes.

“I told you there’d be consequences if you couldn’t leave your cuts alone.”

_Oh.  Right._

He’d forgotten.  Ramsay had promised that the next time Theon was caught messing with his injuries, he’d be repaid with _more_ , as punishment.

“I think I said six more if you couldn’t behave…”

The weight on his back lifted as Ramsay got up.  Theon knew where he was going; the dresser drawer where he kept his collection of knives, different kinds for different purposes, all of them sharp.

He returned to stand beside the bed, where Theon could see the blade in his hand.  It was the one Ramsay favored for this kind of work--the one he most often carried with him, the one he’d used on Alyn and had since used on Theon.

It was six inches of polished steel.  Ramsay turned the blade back and forth, looking it over, so light caught on the edge.

He sat down beside Theon and gently petted his hair.

“When are you gonna learn, sweetheart?”

“I will, I promise.”

It wasn’t quite an answer to Ramsay’s question.

“I don’t know.” Ramsay said skeptically, “I think you like it when I hurt you… I think you know you’re bad and you deserve it…”

Theon couldn’t stop himself from nodding.  Ramsay had hit too closely on how he was feeling right now.

He gasped as the knife bit into his skin without further preamble.

“You’re being so good for me now though,” Ramsay told him, reconsidering, “My father really did you a favor, huh?  He may be the one paying you, but I think we both know who your _real_ daddy is… isn’t that right?”

Theon could do nothing but nod emphatically.  Ramsay leaned his head in near Theon’s hip to lick up a droplet of blood that was threatening the bedspread.  The tip of his tongue was bright red as it flicked back into his mouth.

“Say ‘yes daddy.’”

“Yes daddy.”

Theon moaned again.

As Ramsay completed carving the second little X into Theon’s skin, he realized he’d become so focused on the pain he’d temporarily forgotten his guilt over his agreement with Roose.  Unintentionally, he moaned and Ramsay echoed with a hum of amused approval.

Theon let himself relax into the pain and, by the time Ramsay finished all fix marks, he was half hard and wasn’t thinking about Roose at all.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and Theon attend a formal affair; Theon gets some bad news.
> 
> (And sass master Roose strikes again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a novel-length fanfic and updating consistently every week when you work a full-time job and have a bunch of other responsibilities is hard, who knew? But I persevere, for everyone who is enjoying reading this story. Thanks for your continued support! Enjoy!

The sun was setting over the trees behind the Bolton house.  Its last rays slanted through the windows of Ramsay’s attic.  He watched the dust swilling in the shafts of light and tightened his grip on Theon’s hair.

They were sprawled together on the couch opposite the TV.  A boring looking movie was playing, muted, on the screen.  Theon was curled between Ramsay’s spread legs, his lips wrapped around his cock, head bobbing, up, down, up, down...

Again, Ramsay tugged at Theon’s unruly mass of hair.

“Hurry up.” He said, “We have to be ready to leave in an hour and I better fucking get to nut before then or you’re in big trouble.”

Theon whined something around Ramsay’s cock in response and dutifully picked up his pace, but it was no good.  Disappointing, but he wasn’t surprised.  They both understood that Theon had to be hurting before Ramsay could get off.

Still, it was nice letting Theon do all the work for a little while.

Making sure he had a good hold on him, Ramsay began fucking his cock deeper and harder down Theon’s throat.   

“Now that’s more like it.” He sighed.

Gagging around Ramsay’s length as it choked him, Theon gasped for air and tried valiantly not to struggle too much as his body fought for oxygen.  Tears trailed down his cheeks, which were now bright red as he rebelled against the need to breathe.

Seeing him like that, Ramsay came in minutes.

“That’s it, get it all down now.” He praised as Theon’s throat worked around him as he swallowed every drop of Ramsay’s seed.

He allowed his grip on Theon’s hair to slacken so he could get his breath back.  Gasping, Theon sat up.  His hands fidgeted in his lap.

“Was I good?” He asked plaintively.

“Yeah, you were good.” Ramsay answered.

Theon’s face was still flushed from his effort, his nose and eyes running.  It was strangely endearing, seeing him all messy, knowing that in his desperation to please his master, he wouldn’t let his own discomfort get in his way.

In Ramsay’s opinion, Theon, freshly fucked and disheveled, never looked better.  It made Ramsay want to put him on his belly and fuck him.

They had places to be, though.

He checked the time on his phone.

“Go clean yourself up.  I’ll lay out your clothes.”

Theon scampered off into the bathroom. 

It was the night of the Harvest Day Ball and, per Roose’s orders, Ramsay would be attending, with Theon in tow.  Roose hadn’t _exactly_ invited Theon to come along, but he’d voiced no argument when Ramsay had announced that Theon would be joining them as a condition of Ramsay’s own attendance and good behavior.

Their suits were hanging side by side in Ramsay’s closet, still in their protective plastic coverings from the dry cleaners.  He wasn’t looking forward to being stuffed into uncomfortable formal wear for an entire evening.  The thought of seeing Theon all dressed up was, however, quite tantalizing.

Ramsay was struggling with the buttons of his jacket, tight across the chest and shoulders, when Theon returned from the bathroom.

“Is this better?” He asked.

Ramsay’s answer was unenthusiastic.  “Yeah--by my father’s standards at least.  You know how I like you.”

He slipped an arm around Theon’s bare shoulders and nuzzled his nose into his hair.

“At least you still _smell_ like sex.”

Theon gave him a weak grin as he began to dress himself.   Ramsay stepped over to help him with his tie.  It was hard to resist choking him with it a little.  When he finished, Theon tugged at his collar to get himself a little more breathing room.

They stood together, studying their appearance in Ramsay’s floor-length mirror.

“It’s no good; I look stupid.” Theon said, “I look like a little kid who got caught playing dress-up in daddy’s closet.”

It was an accurate comparison.  Theon’s shoulders failed to fill out his jacket; the sleeves and pant legs were just a little bit too long. 

But he was wrong that it didn’t make him look good.  Ramsay had always thought the “lost little boy” look was more of Domeric’s thing, but fuck if he couldn’t see its appeal now.

“Yeah, you do.” Ramsay said, agreeing with Theon’s assessment.  He pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“I think it’s sexy.”

Theon favored him with a genuine, grateful smile just as Roose’s voice spoke from the intercom on the wall.

“Ramsay.  We need to be leaving.”

“Guess I’ll just have to find a guest room at Tywin Lannister’s to fuck you in.  I’m sure he has tons to choose from.” Ramsay said with a laugh.

Roose really had some lousy timing.

The days had grown shorter and it was already dark outside when Ramsay and Theon met Roose out front.  He was looking particularly unapproachable all dressed up.  Roose motion the two of them towards his car.

“You’re not driving us.” Ramsay said bluntly.

“On the contrary,” Roose countered smoothly, “We arrive together and we leave together.  As I explained to you previously, Ramsay, you are representative of me tonight whether you like it or not and I won’t have you embarrassing me.”

“Whatever.” Ramsay muttered in response.

Let his father have his way.  Not having to drive was just an excuse to get even more wasted and _really_ fuck with Roose.

At least it was a short drive over to the Lannisters’ fancy _estate_.  No one spoke in the car and Ramsay watched Theon glance nervously between Roose in the front seat and Ramsay sitting next to him in the back.

There was no parking when they reached the top of the long circular driveway.  Roose handed off his keys to the valet and beckoned Ramsay and Theon to follow him inside.  They gave their coats to the doorman before entering the main space--and the party.

The Harvest Day Ball was a stupid tradition, in Ramsay’s opinion.  Leftover from when this had been primary a farming town, it was supposed to be a celebration of the bringing in of the last crops of the season.  Well, there hadn’t been a farm around here in decades, so what was even the point of celebrating a non-existent “harvest” anymore?

But there was an open bar.

Without a word to Roose, Ramsay grabbed Theon’s hand and dragged him off through the main ballroom and across the floor to where the drinks were being served.

“This place is huge.” Theon commented as he followed after Ramsay.

Ramsay gave a noncommittal grunt.  “Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s the biggest house I’ve ever been in.” Theon went on, “I thought the Starks’ place was big… but this is bigger.”

He gazed up at the giant crystal chandelier and spun around in awe while Ramsay ordered them each a rum and Coke.  He looked like a princess in one of the animated movies Ramsay’s mother always made him watch to try and “calm him” when he was young.  It was like Theon was seeing a castle for the first time.

“Are you gonna stand around with your mouth hanging open or are you gonna drink this?” Ramsay asked, pressing Theon’s drink on him. 

Yeah, Tywin Lannister’s big fancy house was impressive, he supposed, but it was considerable less astounding considering he’d been forced to attend events like this with Roose and Domeric when he was a kid.

Theon finally caught on that Ramsay wasn’t interested in his enraptured commentary.  He stopped gaping and took a big drink from his glass.

“I guess you’ve seen this all before…”

“Yeah, you’re damn right I have.  It’s just a bunch of rich fucks having a dick measuring contest.  Who gives a shit how many crystal wine glasses you have?  When _I_ inherit my father’s businesses, I’m not going to bother with this shit and I’ll _take_ what I want when I want it.”

A tall, grey-haired woman passing by overheard and frowned at him.  Ramsay leered at her.  Barbery Dustin--he recalled her name--sniffed in distaste in his direction, her frown deepening the lines in her face.

“Stupid old bitch.” Ramsay muttered to Theon, “Domeric’s aunt--and she _loved_ her precious little nephew.  She’s just bitter that now I’ll inherit instead of him.  She’s too old too fuck, but I’d cut her up good if I could…”

Theon had been glancing nervously between Barbery and Ramsay and he was starting to look a bit frantic.

“Can we go somewhere else then?” He asked, “Roose won’t like it if you fight… I don’t want you to get in trouble…”

“Aww, worried about me, baby?” Ramsay laughed and threw an arm around Theon’s shoulder, leading them away from the bar.

They made a circuit around the room before returning to the bar again to freshen their drinks.  Ramsay didn’t bother talking to anyone; there was no one here he gave a shit about.

“Ned Stark isn’t here.” Theon observed, “I don’t think they were invited… Robb didn’t say…”

“Who gives a shit about your stupid Starks?” Ramsay retorted.

But he glanced around the room anyway.  Theon was right; there wasn’t a Stark in sight, and the party was well underway by now.  

That was interesting. 

Ramsay knew enough about his father’s various business connections to know what he had, at least at one time, been not-quite partners with the Stark patriarch, Eddard, allied more out of mutual necessity and convenience than genuine friendship.  It had been that way for generations as the richest most powerful families vied amongst each other for _more_ money and _more_ power.  The Starks and the Boltons had usually came out on the same side and their relationship with the Lannister family had usually been chilly.

Until now, apparently.

He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but the makeup of the room was subtly suggesting that the power balance in town was changing.  In addition to the Starks, conspicuously absent were the remaining Baratheons--Stannis and Renly--even though their older brother Robert had been married to Tywin Lannister’s only daughter, Cersei, prior to his death.

Social niceties weren’t Ramsay’s strong suit, but their absence seemed to send a message of discord.  No wonder Roose had been getting so cozy with Tywin of late.  No doubt Roose thought Ramsay was indifferent to small town politics, but just because he had no enthusiasm for the political wrangling his father was constantly engaged in didn’t mean Ramsay hadn’t inherited his opportunistic nature.

If the era of Stark dominance was on the wane, it could only mean good things for Ramsay’s future.

And he did have some business with a certain _Robb_ Stark.  He hadn’t exactly determined how he’d be dealing with that yet, but he’d think of something.  For now, it was enough to know that the Starks had already fallen far enough that Robb wouldn’t be showing up tonight to distract Theon.

He _was_ distracted by something else though; while Ramsay had been appraising the political atmosphere of the room, Theon had started fiddling with something on his phone.  As Ramsay watched, he started furiously tapping out a text message.  He tried to casually lean over so he could glance at the screen, but the glare obscured the contents of Theon’s message and the name of the recipient.

Would Theon be bold enough to text Robb while they were out tonight?

Ramsay didn’t think so, but Theon could be a bit dim…

At least it was unlikely that it was one of Theon’s assorted booty calls.  Ramsay had been methodically going through his contacts whenever Theon left his phone unattended, deleting the numbers of everyone he suspected Theon could have possibly hooked up with.

He’d left Robb’s number alone, for now.  Deleting that one would have been too obvious too quickly.

The others though… well, if Theon went looking for one of those and then confronted him about it, he’d have to answer to Ramsay why he’d wanted it in the first place, sparing Ramsay from dealing with any objections Theon might have to the invasion of his privacy.

He tried again to read over Theon’s shoulder, noticing that he’d gone at bit pale and was starting to sweat.  No luck.

“What’s your problem all of a sudden?” Ramsay asked instead.

“It’s my sister.  She just texted me.”

Theon’s voice was tense and wooden.

“You know how I’ve been missing a lot of classes?  ‘Cause we get distracted, or you don’t want me going out on my own?  Apparently someone at school called my dad…”

His phone lit up with another incoming message.

Theon thumbed it open and _moaned_.

“What the fuck?” Ramsay demanded.

“He’s kicking me out.  Balon.  He’s throwing me out of the house and he’s not paying for me to go to school anymore.”

The flatness of Theon’s voice was a poor cover for the other physical manifestations of distress Ramsay had picked up on.  He was shaking a little now too; his hands fluttered like trapped birds.  He was clearly in shock.

Ramsay was blunt.

“I don’t see the problem.”

Theon stared at him disbelievingly.

“Who gives a shit about school?  Did you even want to be there anyway?  You’ll move in with me--problem solved.”

“Roose won’t care?” Theon asked.

“Nah, he likes you, remember?”

Ramsay spotted his father across the room, seemingly involved in a discussion with Jaime Lannister.  He pointed him out to Theon and put his arm around his waist.

“There he is.  Let’s go tell him the good news, shall we?”

A bit reluctantly, Theon allowed Ramsay to steer him through the crowd, his frantic conversation with his sister for the moment forgotten.

Roose wrapped up his conversation with Jaime; the handsome blonde handed Roose a package wrapped in brown paper, shook his hand, and moved off.

“What was that all about?” Ramsay asked.

Instead of answering, Roose unwrapped the item Jaime had given him.  He studied the label on the bottle of wine for a moment before speaking.

“Jaime Lannister believes his name and his charm is sufficient to keep him afloat in the same circles as his father.”

Roose glanced at the bottle in his hand with distain.

“He is mistaken.”

He offered the bottle to Ramsay.

“Keep it.  An inferior vintage.  Tywin would be so disappointed if he knew.”

His father stepped away from them as he was hailed by old Walder Frey, who was hobbling towards the bar, leaning heavily on the arms to two of his many sons.

Ramsay’s brief announced at the aborted conversation and abrupt dismissal was only tempted by the enticing prospect of sharing the bottle of wine with Theon.  And the fact that he was used to it.

“Come on.” He said, taking Theon by the arm, “Let’s go see if we can find a guest room or something.  We can drink this and I’ll fuck you to celebrate us moving in together.”

Though he tried his best, that was easier said than done.  The party guests were limited exclusively to the main ballroom.  All other areas of the house were off-limits, guarded by security staff who were dressed like the servers but for the little black earpieces and surly looks they wore.

They finally found a single exit left unwatched; off the entrance hall, two glass doors opened onto a small garden of sorts.  Artfully arranged hedges, turned brown in late fall, boarded the paths that ran throughout.

Ramsay walked Theon along until he spotted a bench tucked into a corner, out of the main sight line of anyone who might try to look for them. 

“There.” He indicated, pointing.

They huddled together.  Well, really, Theon huddled against Ramsay, as close as he could get without being in his lap.  Their breath steamed in the air; without jackets, it really _was_ quite chilly.

“Let’s get this open.” Ramsay said, pulling out his knife.

Theon watched while he wrestled with the cork, using the blade to slowly work it out of the bottle.

Once he’d forced it out, he rewarded himself with a long drink before passing it over to Theon.

The wine warmed him pleasantly as it settled in his stomach.  Theon drank greedily, no doubt seeking the same effect.  He handed the bottle back to Ramsay.

“If I’m going to move in with you,” He mused, “I’ll need to get my stuff somehow.  I only have a few things back at your place.”

To Theon’s credit, he sounded slightly more in control.  Or at least, less shocked than he had been.  Like he was testing out the idea of living full-time at Ramsay’s instead of having a separate place he could return to periodically.

It wasn’t significantly different than what they had been doing; Theon spending most nights with Ramsay and returning to his own home for a night or two each week, as if to reassure himself that their relationship wasn’t moving quite _that_ fast.

“Fine.” Ramsay said, “Go get your stuff whenever then.  But you can’t take everything; I only have so much space at mine.”

“Maybe you can come with me?” Theon asked tentatively, “So you can show me how much I can take and all.  We’ll have to go when Balon’s not there--“

“Yeah, all right.” Ramsay interjected.

It was painfully obviously Theon just didn’t want to go alone, but was too embarrassed to just come right out and say it.

“You’re sure it’s going to be okay with your dad?” Theon asked.

All this talking about Theon getting kicked out was getting annoying.  It wasn’t like he was homeless.  He’d live with Ramsay and that was that.  He should be _grateful_ for the excuse; he was only sleeping at Balon’s to keep up appearances anyway.

But telling _him_ that wouldn’t serve.  Theon would just get indignant, even though they both knew Ramsay could read him like a book.

So he just said, “What did I _tell_ you?  Anyway, it’s my apartment, not his.  Just happens to be in his house.  Shut up about it for a while, huh?”

They continued passing the bottle back and forth in silence for a while.

“Too bad we couldn’t find a room to fuck in.” Ramsay said eventually, “I’d let you suck me off out here, but I don’t want my dick to freeze.”

Theon must have been well and truly drunk by this point, because he actually _giggled_.

“Your dick wouldn’t freeze,” He replied, slurring a little, “It’s… it’s too _big_.”

That got Ramsay laughing; he was definitely drunker than he thought.

“Fucking idiot.” He told Theon good-naturedly, “You’re cute when you’re this wasted.”

That got Theon giggling again.  And blushing, adding a new flush of red to his cheeks, which were already rosy in the cold.

“Real fuckin’ shame about that guest room.” Ramsay muttered, mostly to himself.

“Why d’you think Jaime Lannister gave your dad wine?” Theon asked, taking another sip.

“Fuck if I know.  Roose probably did something for him and he was trying to say thank you, I guess.  What does it matter?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Theon sighed.

“Do you ever feel like… like something is going to happen, or maybe it has already, but you don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle so you can’t see it?”

Ramsay shrugged.

“I guess.”

He really _was_ drunk, if he was willing to indulge Theon’s fancies this far.

“It feels like… like I dunno, the town’s holding it’s breath, waiting for something. Something big, that’s gonna effect like, everyone. Kinda like how it was when Robert Baratheon took over the Targaryen empire. He ran Aerys Targaryen’s kids out of town… I remember hearing about it when I was younger, at Robb’s house.”

“Yeah kinda like how everyone heard about your father trying to do the same thing to Robert and fucking it all up. How long did it take him to recover?” Ramsay replied peevishly.

Sure, maybe he’d kind of picked up on what Theon was talking about when they were inside, but that didn’t mean he wanted to speculate about it. Not with the person who really should be sucking him off right about now instead of blathering. He didn’t keep Theon around for his commentary on small-town politics.  He thought about telling Theon that out loud, but he was too drunk to get the words out right.  It wouldn’t sound snappy enough.

Ramsay stood up, too quickly; the rush of alcohol to his head made him unsteady.

“It’s gotta be almost time to get the fuck out of here.” He declared.

They ditched the empty wine bottle in a half-dead shrub and hurried back into the party.

Back inside, it looked like some partygoers had consumed at least as much alcohol as Ramsay and Theon had by now.  Old Walder Frey was drunkenly berating a large collection of his numerous children and grandchildren, all of whom had been invited.  Tyrion Lannister, Tywin’s youngest son, was whispering something to a doe-eyed young woman, who was red in the face and giggling breathlessly.  She seemed to reply with a remark cutting enough to make Tyrion slosh wine all over himself.

Ramsay scanned the room for his father, who he found in deep in conversation with their host.  Tywin Lannister leaned close to Roose’s ear to say something in--at a guess--conspiratorial tones.  Roose didn’t hesitate to reply.  Of course he didn’t--he was a Bolton, like Ramsay, and they were just as good as anyone else, even high-and-mighty Tywin Lannister.  There was no reason to be intimidated.

Theon had been watching Ramsay watch his father.

“Maybe we shouldn’t bother him.  He looks busy.”

“I’m his heir.” Ramsay pointed out, “I think it’s my _responsibility_ as such to introduce myself to my father’s business associates…”

But before they could make it fifteen steps in Roose’s direction, their path was impeded by a newcomer; a short man with a painstakingly waxed moustache and a cigar poking out of his pocket, who Ramsay didn’t recognize.

“Theon Greyjoy, correct?” He said, holding out his hand.  Theon shook it tentatively, his grip reminiscent of a wet fish.

“Uh, yeah.  I don’t remember y--“

“Petyr Baelish.” The man said.  Ramsay noted he had an absurd set of matching cufflinks and a tie-clip, all shaped to look like some kind of bird--a mockingbird, maybe?

“Um, right.” Theon replied.

“I’m a friend of the Starks as well.” Baelish went on, “Well, perhaps I should say a friend of the Tullys… I grew up with Catelyn Stark, because she took that name.  Once upon a time, I harbored hope she’d chose a different path than life as a Stark…”

Either he didn’t notice that Theon clearly clueless as to his significance and anxious to end their interaction, or he just didn’t care.

Ramsay was betting on the latter.

“But you’re a bit young to be aware of that ancient history, aren’t you?  Do you know Sansa?  Catelyn’s eldest daughter--very beautiful.  As was her mother at that age…”

He sighed in a long-suffering sort of way.  Theon glanced at Ramsay for help.

They were rescued by Roose instead.  He appeared at Baelish’s elbow.

“Excuse me, Petyr.  I’m afraid it is time we took our leave.”

“Everything all arranged with Tywin then?”  Baelish flashed a bleach-white smile.

“For the moment, yes, but I would ask you not to speak of such things haphazardly.” Roose cautioned, “If you don’t mind.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” 

Wrong-footed by Roose Bolton, the aggravating little man moved off.

_Fucking finally._

Trailing behind Roose, Ramsay and Theon collected their coats and they all stepped out into the cold to wait for the car to be brought around.

“Whatever backroom deals you were making with Tywin tonight isn’t the only exciting thing that happened tonight.” Ramsay remarked to his father. 

Alcohol and excitement about dropping a bombshell Roose would never see coming made his voice excessively bright and cheery.

“Theon’s dad chucked him out--he’s moving in with me.”

“In with _you_ ,” Roose echoed skeptically, “In my home, which I pay for?  Is that to be my understanding?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”  Ramsay grinned even wider.  “I mean he’s moving in with _us_.”

“I expect you’ll get done twice as much around the house then.  How fortunate.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Harvest Day Ball, Theon's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this stupid alternative POV chapter took me so long... my work schedule changed and it's been a whole thing and like working retail during the holidays, blehh. Also sorry this chapter re-hashes a lot of the same dialogue and stuff... there's just stuff going on in Theon's mind that I also needed to show if that makes sense. Things will continue moving forward in the next chapter.

Theon hadn’t really thought much about it when Ramsay told him that he’d be attending the Harvest Day Ball as a guest of the Boltons; it was weeks in advance and anyway, it wasn’t as if he could refuse Ramsay, especially not once he announced that they were doing something.

But he’d completely overlooked the implications, particularly in light of his new arrangement with Roose.

So not only would he have to appear in public as Ramsay Bolton’s boyfriend in front of everybody important in town, he’d have to spend the whole night keeping Ramsay out of trouble, without Ramsay becoming aware that that’s what Theon was doing.

And he’d have to do it while wearing a suit.

Theon _hated_ dressing up.  He hadn’t realized that he’d be required to dress formally until the day before the party, when Roose presented them both with what they’d be wearing to Tywin Lannister’s house the next evening.

It was embarrassing enough, having his boyfriend’s dad buy him expensive clothes, but it wasn’t nothing compared to _wearing_ them.

Scrutinizing himself in Ramsay’s full-length mirror, Theon tried to explain how stupid he looked.

“I look like a little kid who got caught playing dress-up in daddy’s closet.” He complained.

He let the sleeves of his suit jacket drop down to prove his point; they dropped down until his hands were almost completely hidden.

Ramsay was unsympathetic. 

“Yeah, you do.”

He planned a kiss on the top of Theon’s head.

“I like it.”

That was enough.  Theon smiled gratefully.  Ramsay thought he looked good.  He could do this.  He could get through this evening and then Ramsay would take him home and probably fuck his brains out…

“Ramsay.  We need to be leaving.”  Roose’s voice spoke from the intercom.

Theon felt himself blushing as if Roose could read his thoughts and _knew_ he was imagining being pounded into the mattress by Roose’s son.

“Guess I’ll just have to find a guest room at Tywin Lannister’s to fuck you in.  I’m sure he has tones to choose from.” Ramsay laughed.

Anxiety again settled into Theon’s stomach as he followed Ramsay downstairs.  The last thing he needed was for that to happen.  The way they fucked, such a tryst couldn’t possibly go undiscovered and Theon was pretty sure that Roose wouldn’t consider sneaking away from the party to have sex to be “keeping Ramsay out of trouble.”

He’d just have to do what he could to keep Ramsay’s mind off fucking… Something easier said than done but, he had to earn those paychecks, right?

Ironic, considering that Roose had all but called him a whore when he’d agreed to act as his spy.

Roose was waiting for them out front, but Ramsay balked when Roose gestured them towards the backseat of his car.

“You’re not driving us.”                                                                                 

“On the contrary, we arrive together and we leave together.  As I explained to you previous, Ramsay, you are representative of me tonight whether you like it or not and I won’t have you embarrassing me.”

Theon awkwardly stared at the ground and tried to tune out the father-son disagreement, to little affect.

He climbed hastily into the backseat, imagining how the wheels in Ramsay’s brain must be turning, trying to come up with the best way to defy Roose’s command.

That Roose would insist on driving them, treating Ramsay like a child, a surefire way to inflame his temper, showed a great deal of trust--misplaced, in his opinion--in Theon’s ability to keep Ramsay in line.

Tonight was starting to feel disturbingly like a test for the both of them.

Theon had never been to the Lannister mansion before; he wasn’t even sure how accurate a descriptor “mansion” really was. 

Of course he knew the Lannisters were the wealthiest family in town--everyone knew _that_ \--but most of the details about what that entailed had come to him secondhand via Robb, who had gotten all his information from his father.  Ned Stark was quite convinced that Tywin Lannister’s ruthless business practices were not only unnecessarily hard in a town where most everyone had known each other from childhood, but also very nearly crossed the line into being outright illegal.

Robb had been to the Lannister home on a few occasions with Ned, shadowing him to learn about the company that he would one day inherit as the oldest of the Stark children.  He’d told Theon begrudgingly that it _had_ been an impressive place and apparently he hadn’t lied.  Theon couldn’t help staring as Roose pulled around the driveway up to the front of the house. 

It really _was_ a mansion.  The white façade of the house was lit up by spotlights that burned on the lawn and festively decorated with twinkling lights and the boughs of fir trees; Theon could smell the scent of pine on the air as he emerged, awestruck, from Roose’s car.

Somehow, his newly forged connections with the Boltons had gained him entry into a world he’d only heard about in bits and pieces--mainly due to his friendship with Robb.  The Greyjoys hadn’t been invited to one of these parties for at least as long as Theon had been alive. 

It was no secret to Theon that most of the older families in town looked down on the Greyjoys.  While the Baratheons, Lannisters, Tyrells, Starks and so on moved money around and grew their fortunes through vague means that Theon likely wouldn’t understand even if someone took the time to explain it all to him, the Greyjoys had humbler origins.  They’d gotten their start crewing fishing vessels off the coast and eventually expanded into shipping and transport.  Everyone in town had used their services at one point or another, and some even had long-standing contracts, but that hadn’t helped enhance the Greyjoys’ status any.

And then Balon had gotten it into his head to try and take over Robert Baratheon’s business, the same one _he’d_ taken over from Aerys Targaryen. 

It had gone disastrously, to say the least.

Now the likelihood that they’d be invited to a party like this was even less than it had been previously.  Not that Balon would deign to attend even if someone did decide that he for some reason merited an invitation.  He was too set in his ways; the Greyjoys had never needed to mingle with the upper echelon of society before to make their way and they didn’t need to know.

 _It was too bad; Rodrik and Maron would have loved the open bar_ , Theon thought scathingly, surprising himself with his own malice. 

Maybe he needed a drink himself.  He wouldn’t make it through an evening of keeping both Roose and Ramsay happy if he couldn’t relax.

Fortunately, Ramsay was already pulling him in the direction of the bar.

“This place is huge.” Theon observed, aware that he was stating the obvious but unable to hide his admiration.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Ramsay didn’t seem all that interested, in their surroundings or the guests that crowded the ballroom, as intent as he was on getting something to drink.

“It’s the biggest house I’ve ever been in.” Theon continued, just to be saying something, “I though the Starks’ place was big… but this is bigger.”

He looked up at the crystal chandelier that hung over the center of the floor, turning in place to try and get a good look at everything.  He could practically hear his father condemning the décor at frivolously expensive and gaudy; just the Lannisters attempts at showing off.  Anything decorative in Theon’s childhood home had likely been purchased by his mother.

Ramsay pushed a drink into his hand.  “Are you gonna stand around with your mouth hanging open or are you gonna drink this?” He asked.

Theon gulped down a mouthful to prove that he wasn’t _totally_ entranced by Tywin Lannister’s displays of wealth.

“I guess you’ve seen this all before…”

“Yeah, you’re damn right I have.  It’s just a bunch of rich fucks having a dick measuring contest.  Who gives a shit about how many crystal wineglasses you have?  When _I_ inherit my father’s businesses, I’m not going to bother with this shit and I’ll _take_ what I want when I want it.”

As Ramsay railed against the socializing and keeping up of appearances necessary for true success in a small, tight-knit town, Theon glanced nervously around them.

Ramsay wasn’t exactly troubling to keep it down and anyone could be listening; already a slender, elegantly dressed woman was watching them.  She looked Ramsay over, distaste plain on her lined but still handsome face.

But she moved off before there could be a confrontation.  Theon sighed in relief.

“Stupid old bitch.  Domeric’s aunt--and she _loved_ her precious little nephew.  She’s just bitter that now I’ll inherit instead of him.” Ramsay said in mocking explanation.  “She’s too old to fuck, but I’d cut her up good if I would…”

Anxiously, Theon made sure the woman was no longer close enough to overhear.  She seemed to be safely out of earshot, but Theon caught Roose nearby, watching them. 

He tried to give Roose a reassuring look while saying said to Ramsay, “Can we go somewhere else then?  Roose won’t like it if you fight… I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Ramsay took it in stride; he seemed mollified by just stating his sadistic desires out loud.

He put his arm around Theon and pulled him close.  “Aww, worried about me, baby?”

Theon relaxed marginally as they wandered around the room.  As he looked around, he realized he and Robb hadn’t spoken about tonight at all.  For the past few years, Ned and Catelyn had required Robb’s attendance--they’d even hosted the party two seasons ago.  Usually, Robb spent the whole night surreptitiously texting Theon whenever he could get away with it.

But it didn’t even seem like Robb’s parents were here tonight and there was no _way_ they’d miss this.  That had to mean…

“Ned Stark isn’t here.  I don’t think they were invited… Robb didn’t say…”

“Who gives a shit about your stupid Starks?”

It still always put Ramsay in a bad mood whenever Theon talked about Robb or even just mentioned the Starks generally.

But it was really weird… Ned Stark was as important as anyone around town…

Before he could get too distracted wondering what was going on, Theon felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket.  He ignored it at first.  It was probably nothing.  He’d been periodically getting texts from numbers not already programmed in his phone--they usually said something to the effect of “I wanna see you” or “I miss you”--leading Theon to conclude that they were probably girls he’d been with at some point.  He never texted back.  Asking for a name felt too awkward and anyway, he was with Ramsay now.  Better for everyone if he just ignored the messages all together.

His phone buzzed again and again in quick succession. 

Theon glanced at Ramsay.  He seemed pretty distracted, surveying the room with his brow furrowed like he was concentrating on deciphering a puzzle while missing some key clues.

It was probably safe enough to just _read_ the messages.  No one was forcing him to answer.

Thumbing open his phone’s lock screen, Theon saw Asha’s name pop up. 

_Oh.  It was just his sister then._

He opened her messages.

_THEON. 911. DAD IS PISSED._

_YOUR SCHOOL CALLED.  HAVE YOU BEEN SKIPPING CLASSES?  THEY WANT TO FAIL YOU._

_DAD SAYS DO NOT COME HOME.  HE’S KICKING YOU OUT.  PLEASE FIND SOMEWHERE TO STAY TONIGHT.  I’LL TRY TO FIX THIS._

“Shit.” Theon whispered.  He glanced at Ramsay; he hadn’t noticed anything was wrong.

Theon texted back a reply to Asha as quickly as he could.

_I’ll have a place for tonight.  What do you mean kicking me out?  What happened???_

Waiting for Asha to text back was the most agonizing minutes of Theon’s life.  Panic gripped his whole body.  He could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, yet he was frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch his whole life, everything he’d ever known, unravel before his eyes.

“What’s your problem all of a sudden?” Ramsay asked.

“It’s my sister.  She just texted me.”

His voice didn’t even sound like his own.  It was too tense, yet strangely hollow.  Numb.

He swallowed and tried to explain.

“You know how I’ve been missing a lot of classes?  ‘Cause we get distracted, or you don’t want me going out on my own?  Apparently someone at school called my dad…”

Theon’s phone finally lit up with a new text.

_Your school called Balon.  They said you’ve missed too many classes and done too poorly on exams to pass this semester.  Balon wants you out of the house--for good.  Nothing I’ve said will convince him to change his mind.  I’m sorry, little brother.  I’ll keep trying, but it might be good if you made some other plans for now._

He groaned like he’d received a physical blow.

“What the fuck?”

He’s kicking me out.” He told Ramsay, “Balon.  He’s throwing me out of the house and he’s not paying for me to go to school anymore.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

Theon looked blankly at Ramsay, sure he was misunderstanding the gravity of the situation.

“Who gives a shit about school?  Did you even want to be there anyway?  You’ll move in with me--problem solved.”

“Roose won’t care?” Theon asked, just to at least _try_ and make a counterpoint.

“Nah, he likes you, remember?” Ramsay dismissed him immediately and there was no arguing with Ramsay once he made up his mind.

Theon couldn’t refuse Ramsay’s hospitality now that he’d offered.  It would only make him look ungrateful.  Anyway, he was spending practically every night in Ramsay’s bed as it was.

Besides, maybe things with Balon would blow over in a couple weeks.  Asha had said she’s try to get him to reconsider somehow.  She _might_ come through.

Ramsay pointed out Roose, talking with Jaime Lannister across the room.

“There he is.  Let’s go tell him the good news, shall we?”

Theon distinctly doubted that this was any news Roose wanted to here, but the last ten minutes had thrown him wildly off his axis and any possible method of waylaying Ramsay went right out of his head.

At least Roose appeared to be wrapping up his conversation; Jaime handed him a package of some kind and they shook hands before Jaime departed.

“What was that about?” Ramsay asked tactlessly.

Roose ignored him.  He removed the wrapping from the gift Jaime had handed him, revealing it to be a bottle of wine.

“Jaime Lannister believes his name and his charm are sufficient to keep him afloat in the same circles as his father.” Roose observed.

Clearly, he was unimpressed by Jaime’s gesture with the wine.

“He is mistaken.”

“Keep this.” Roose said, handing the bottle to Ramsay, “An inferior vintage.  Tywin would be so disappointed if he knew.”

With that, he took his leave of them.

Theon didn’t care about the vintage or Jaime’s faux pas; he was just relieved that he could maybe go a few more hours before Ramsay announced to his father that the Boltons’ frequent houseguest was soon to be a permanent resident.

Plus he _really_ needed another drink.

“Come on.” Ramsay said, “Let’s go see if we can find a guest room or something.  We can drink this and I’ll fuck you to celebrate us moving in together.”

Theon was apprehensive; this was a surefire way for Ramsay to cause trouble for Roose, just the sort of thing he was _supposed_ to be preventing.  But it quickly became clear that, true to form, Tywin Lannister had spared no expense when throwing this party, and that included providing for the security of his home while he played host.  Ramsay and Theon found themselves repeatedly turned back by security.  No one could leave the main ballroom or entrance hall.

Anxiously watching Ramsay grow steadily more frustrated, Theon started to grow concern that he may end up in an altercation with one of the guards.

But to his relief they found an escape instead, through an unwatched door that led out into some kind of courtyard.  Cobblestone paths wove through a maze of hedges and unidentifiable plants; it was probably a beautiful and relaxing place in spring or summer, but now it just looked kind of depressing to Theon. 

Everything was just dead, the ground frozen.

Ramsay found a bench out of the direct sightline from the tall windows that looked in on the party.

He went to work uncorking the wine bottle Roose had given them.

They sat, and drank, shivering in the cold.  The alcohol warmed Theon’s stomach and he gulped down more each time Ramsay passed him the bottle.

He was starting to feel better.

“If I’m going to move in with you,” He remarked to Ramsay, “I’ll need to get my stuff somehow.  I only have a few things back at your place.”

“Fine.” Ramsay replied, “Go get your stuff whenever then.  But you can’t take everything.  I only have so much space at mine.”

For a moment, Theon considered how much he _really_ needed the things in his bedroom--his old bedroom. 

He was being cowardly.

But--

“Maybe you can go with me?” He asked, “So you can show me how much I can take and all.  We’ll have to go when Balon’s not there--“

“Yeah, all right.” Ramsay interrupted.

Theon pursed his lips and tried to think of a way to change the subject. 

“You’re sure it’s going to be okay with your dad?”

A poor attempt was better than nothing, right?

But Ramsay was annoyed--“What did I _tell_ you?” He snapped.

“Besides, it’s my apartment, not his.  Just happens to be in his house.  Shut up about it for a while, huh?”

They lapsed into silence, passing the bottle between them.

“Too bad we couldn’t find a room to fuck in.  I’d let you suck me off out here, but I don’t want my dick to freeze.”

Theon giggled drunkenly.  He couldn’t help it.  This whole night had been an absurd ride of anxiety and tension and something about the imagine of Ramsay’s icy dick was just too funny.

“Your dick wouldn’t freeze.” Theon said.  He having trouble getting the words out.

“It’s… it’s too _big_.”

Ramsay snorted derisively.  But as Theon continued to wheeze in a renewed fit of giggles, he finally laughed.

“Fucking idiot.  You’re cute when you’re this wasted.”

Theon preened.  He couldn’t help it.  He was so rarely praised by _anyone_ and coming from Ramsay… it felt better than _anything_.

“Real fuckin’ shame about that guest room.” Ramsay mumbled.

“Why d’you think Jaime Lannister gave your dad wine?” Theon asked, voicing something he’d been wondering about.

“Fuck if I know.” Ramsay admitted, “Roose probably did something for him and he was trying to say thank you, I guess.  What does it matter?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Theon sighed.  He couldn’t help thinking it _did_ matter.  Somehow, it mattered _a lot_.

He just didn’t know _why_. 

It was like one of those books he’d have a kid, where they’d show you a zoomed-in picture, something that looked familiar, but still enough like nonsense that it was hard to determine what it was--but because of the nature of the game, you knew it was part of a greater whole.

He tried to explain--“Do you ever feel like… like something is going to happen, or maybe it has already, but you don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, so you can’t see it?”

Ramsay just shrugged.

“I guess.”

“It feel like… like I dunno, the town’s holding it’s breath, waiting for something.  Something big, that’s gonna effect like, everyone.  Kinda like how it was when Robert Baratehon took over the Targaryen empire.   He ran Aerys Targaryen’s kids out of town… I remember hearing about it when I was younger, at Robb’s house.”

“Yeah kinda like how everyone heard about your father trying to do the same thing to Robert and fucking it all up.  How long did it take him to recover?” Ramsay retorted.

That shut Theon up.  He forgotten, Ramsay didn’t like it when he brought up Robb, even just in passing.  He wasn’t explaining himself well anyway.  It was probably for the best; he didn’t _really_ know anything about any of this political stuff.

Ramsay stood abruptly. 

“It’s gotta be almost time to get the fuck out of here.” He announced.

They hurried back inside.

Theon could feel the effects of the alcohol now working its way through his body.  Drunkenness and the darkness of the garden they’d just left made the lights in the ballroom seem that much brighter.

Ramsay’s eyes fixed on something; when Theon followed his gaze, he found Roose Bolton deep in conversation with Tywin Lannister.  Whatever they were discussed appeared to be of great important and they were taking steps not to be overheard.  As they watched, Tywin murmured something in Roose’s ear, which Roose gave answer to.

Clearly, now was not the time for Ramsay and Theon to be interrupting him.

“Maybe we shouldn’t bother him.” Theon said, “He looks busy.”

But of course Ramsay rebuked him immediately.

“I’m him heir.  I think it’s my _responsibility_ as such to introduce myself to my father’s business associates…”

Dismayed, Theon followed as Ramsay started forward.  No wonder his father was throwing him out.  He couldn’t handle school, he couldn’t keep Ramsay out of trouble… it was only a matter of time before Roose figured that out and dropped their arrangement before he wasted more time and money on a perpetual failure…

“Theon Greyjoy, correct?”

A short man accosted before they’d gotten anywhere close to where Roose was standing.  He stuck out his hand to Theon, who instinctually shook it and muttered a failed greeting. 

He didn’t recognize the man.

“Petyr Baelish.  I’m a friend of the Starks’ as well…”

Theon let him prattle on at him.  Something about Catelyn Stark, something about Robb’s younger sister, Sansa…

He had no interest in the conversation and glanced at Ramsay anxiously.  Was Theon making him look bad by being recognized by something in Tywin Lannister’s circle, when no one here seemed to know Ramsay at all?

When Roose appeared, Theon had never been more grateful to see him.

“Excuse me, Petyr.  I’m afraid it is time we took out leave.”

“Everything all arranged with Tywin then?” Baelish asked. 

His attempted winning smile had no impact on Roose.

“For the moment, yes, but I would ask you not to speak of such thing haphazardly.”

Roose pursed his lips.

“If you don’t mind.” He added.  For politeness’s sake, Theon guessed.

At last, this whole stressful, overwhelming night was over.

Except, it wasn’t.

“Whatever backroom deals you were making with Tywin isn’t the only exciting thing that happened tonight.” Ramsay said as they stood on the front porch.

Roose didn’t acknowledge that he’d heard but surely he recognized the manic excitement in Ramsay’s voice as ominous.

“Theon’s dad chucked him out--he’s moving in with me.”

“In with _you_.”

Roose was incredulous.

“In my home, which I pay for?  Is that to be my understanding?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Ramsay’s tone gave lie to his words.

“I mean he’s moving in with _us_.”

“I expect you’ll get done twice as much around the house then.  How fortunate.”

Ramsay may have been too pleased with himself to caught the sarcasm in Roose’s deadpan response, but Theon nearly laughed out loud in spite of everything.  It had been that kind of night.


End file.
